


We Have Chemistry Together

by simpleParadox



Series: We Have Something Together [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Chemistry, Chemistry puns, Grif explodes something at one point it's an ordeal, Lab Partners, M/M, mentions of Donut/Doc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1742537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simpleParadox/pseuds/simpleParadox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick Simmons is a nerd starting his first day of high school. Dexter Grif is a slacker who got held back. On their first day of Chemistry class they are assigned as lab partners. Simmons just wants to make honor roll but it's really hard to do that when your lab partner is sabotaging your grade "for the lolz". He also thinks Simmons is kind of cute. Simmons doesn't know how to deal with this information. </p><p>These nerds have no idea what they're getting into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hydrogen

**Author's Note:**

> This is all Sydney's fault. 
> 
> I'm never gonna get over these nerds.

Dick Simmons was a nerd. Well, that was the label that had been super glued to him ever since elementary school. You get a couple of good grades and start to kiss the teachers ass and suddenly you’re marked for life. Kids were mean. Teenagers were even worse.

That’s why he didn’t get butterflies in is stomach as he walked into the building on his first day of high school. He knew that these were the same kids who had relentlessly teased him in elementary school and middle school so there was no doubt in his mind that he would forever be a nerd in high school too. He had learned to accept it because there was no way he would be able to change the thick minds of his peers.

It’s not like he ever even cared about being accepted or having friends. All that ever mattered to him was his education, being the best in the class, getting the highest grades and GPA. Nothing else mattered. To Simmons, high school was his time to shine academically, even if there wasn’t anyone around to cheer for him.

So, with a set goal in his mind, Dick Simmons trotted happily to his first period class: Chemistry. He had a fondness for the subject, finding it interesting that even though everyone was made up of the same chemical make-up people were still able to be assholes to one another. Maybe that’s why he liked it, it was easier to deal with people on a molecular level.

Simmons practically felt his heart break when he walked into the Chemistry room and saw the layout of the classroom. It was lined with lab tables. Lab tables with two sets of chemistry gear. Lab tables with two stools. Lab tables that required two people.

He was going to have a lab partner.

God _fucking_ dammit.

Simmons huffed quietly to himself as he filed behind the other students who were waiting to be partnered up by the teacher who apparently was just called “Sarge” according to the whiteboard with the name written in all caps.

He ran a hand through his red hair as he scanned the classroom for potential partners. He saw all the familiar faces from middle school, friends being reunited after a long summer vacation, chatting to one another about how cool it was to be in high school and that they got to work with _real chemicals_ in chemistry. Simmons had to stop himself from rolling his eyes into the back of his head.

“Alright maggots.” A loud, southern voice emerged from behind the main lab desk in the front of the classroom. How long had the teacher been standing there? He was kind of hard to miss. A big, stocky guy with cropped white hair. A scar slid across his face over his left eye. He wore a scowl that could rival The Joker’s. Simmons had a feeling that this teacher was going to be hard to suck up to. But he was never one to decline a challenge. “My name is Sarge. You may call me nothing else unless you want detention or a slap on the wrist.”

Jeez, what was this, the 40’s? Simmons had a feeling this guy was old school. And military old school by the looks of the scar on his face and the muscles that seemed to line every part of his body. Simmons felt small compared to him, like he was the youngest ant about to go on his first gathering expedition and just so happened to be caught by a giant spider. Simmons spent the next few moments contemplating if he ever broke a mirror at some point in his life.

“You _will_ be working with dangerous chemicals in this class. I feel no need to tell you the safety procedures as you should have the common sense to not do anything stupid,” Sarge spat, pacing up and down the isle of desks with his hands clasps behind his back. “Well, except for Grif.”

Simmons followed Sarge’s eyes as they shot a horrifying glare at a student he didn’t recognize. He was maybe a little shorter than himself, but Simmons was tall for his age, and kind of pudgy. He had dark skin, the kind of skin that was hard to point out the exact ethnicity. He had a black mop of unruly hair and what looked like the beginnings of a beard on his chin. He seemed unfazed by Sarge’s comment, as if he was used to it.  

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, sir,” Grif said and mock saluted. Simmons was tempted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. It was either that or because Grif was wearing a shirt with a shitty troll face on it. 

Sarge started to ramble on about all the idiots he’s had in his classroom and how they should try to not be like them (he heard Grif’s named mentioned multiple times, so he figured the footnotes of the speech were “don’t be like Grif”). But Simmons had zoned out a bit, trying to think of why he hadn’t seen this Grif guy before. Was he new? Well, if Sarge knew him then he couldn’t possibly be new. He was in the middle of thinking when he suddenly heard the dreaded words, “Okay, time for me to assign you lab partners.”

Simmons visibly gulped, adjusting his glasses nervously. He just wanted someone that would be quiet and would let him do all the work for them, like most people would do. He didn’t want someone who would poke fun at him while doing so. He just wanted to do it all by himself. It’s not that he didn’t trust other people with his grade, it was just that other people were fucking stupid.

“First row, Franklin Delano…uh…Donut. Your partner will be Frank DuFresne,” he listed and Simmons watched as Donut happily skipped into his seat wearing a “Real Men Wear Pink” shirt. Frank, or Doc as everyone called him for no reason other than he looked like he could be a doctor, sat down next to his friend with a small smile on his face that he seemed to be trying to hide.

“Next, uh, Leonard Church and Michael J. Caboose.” Simmons winced when he heard the loud cheer come from Caboose at the excitement of being Church’s partner. It was soon followed by a sad groan from Church who reluctantly took his seat next to the class idiot.

Sarge scratched his head, looking like he was trying everything he could to stop himself from smacking Caboose upside the head, and looked back down at his clipboard. “David Washington and Lavernius Tucker…”

After that Simmons zoned out again. This time to just slow down his heart rate for the fear of being stuck with a partner that wouldn’t let him do all the work, or being stuck with someone who physically bullied him. He clenched his fists as Sarge kept calling names, his heart skipping a beat every time his name was called. That is until he and Grif were the only two people left.

“And last but definitely least, Grif, your partner is Dick Simmons, God rest his soul. Don’t screw it up this year,” he scolded as he walked back to his desk.

Simmons had no clue how to handle this situation. A part of him was relieved that he wasn’t stuck with one of the classmates he knew but that other was full of fear. Sarge had talked about Grif like he was the worst person in the world and Simmons was actually shaking at the thought. He mustered all the bravery he could to look over at his new lab partner. Grif did a slight wave, a smirk on his face, as he started to walk towards the back of the class where their table was. Simmons just followed suit, not muttering a word to him.

When they got to their seats Sarge started the lesson. As much as Simmons would’ve liked to focus on the lesson he couldn’t help but focus on his partner instead. Because Grif was fucking _staring_ at him like he was his next meal.

Finally it got to him and Simmons whispered an annoyed “What?” to Grif.

Grif let out a small laugh he seemed to be holding in for too long. “Your name is Dick.”

That’s it.

This year was gonna suck.


	2. Chlorine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had to Google chemistry stuff for this chapter. Writing is an adventure.

Simmons collapsed onto his bed when he got back home from his first day of school. He walked straight passed his questioning mother, who seemed fairly worried when he refused to answer how his day had been. He just went right to his room. He was tried and annoyed and just wanted the year to be over already.

His mind kept going back to what happened in Chemistry, a class that was supposed to be his favorite, and how much it sucked. Sarge was loud and impatient, going on long tangents about how stupid the class was. For the time being Simmons didn’t say anything to him, figuring staying quiet was the best way to win favorite student. But that wasn’t even the worse part.

Grif had been somewhat okay for the first part of class while Sarge was talking. He just quietly snickered while Simmons ignored him, trying his best to actually _learn_ something. But once Sarge handed out a worksheet for them to work on together was when shit hit the fan.

“So, you’re gonna do all this crap, right?” Was the first thing Grif said when Sarge had started to fiddle with something on his desk, leaving the students to work with their partners. “’Cos you seem like a nerd who’s into that kinda thing.” Grif then poked his glasses as if to point out that they were his redeeming nerd factor.

“Yeah, I’ll do all of it,” he muttered. He was actually happy about that, it’s what he wanted in the first place. But he had this sinking feeling in his gut that Grif wouldn’t be discarded that easily. You see, Simmons was used to being teased behind his back, when people thought he wasn’t listening. He was used to the surprises left in his locker by anonymous people. The one thing that was never really done to him was someone doing that kind of stuff right to his face.

“Has anyone ever told you that your hair looks ridiculous?” Grif said immediately after Simmons had picked up his pencil to start working on the sheet. “You’re like Chucky from _Rugrats._ ”

Simmons just ignored him. He figured that Grif would get bored and stop when he realized that his words weren’t effecting him. But he didn’t.

“Did your parents give you steroids or something as a kid? Because you’re like freakishly tall for a freshman.”

Simmons let out a breathy sigh, trying to focus on the task at hand. That’s when Grif said it. Said the thing that plagued his mind for the rest of the day, made him unfocused and confused and overall a darker shade of red.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Simmons froze in the middle of the sentence he was writing. He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and too the tips of his ears, instantly covering his pale freckled face in a bright red color. _What did he just say?_ Simmons slowly looked over towards Grif, mouth slightly open, to see that he wasn’t even paying attention to him anymore. He was staring out the window, acting as if what he had just said was so casual.

That’s when Simmons deduced that this guy wasn’t trying to be mean to him because he was nerdy. Grif just didn’t have filter in his mind. He was blunt and crude but the only thing he seemed to be doing was trying to have fun by annoying him.

Was that why he called him cute? To get on his nerves? To see how he would react, knowing that Simmons would freak? Or did he actually mean it?

He turned back to look at the sheet of paper again, trying to will his hand into finishing the sentence he had been writing.

_Boron has 5 protons. Boron has 5 protons. Boron had 5 protons- did he just call me cute?_

Simmons shook his head in frustration, trying to get the words out of his head to make more room for Chemistry. Grif was still looking out the window, fingers absentmindedly taping against his cheek. He seemed to be humming a tune that Simmons didn’t recognize. He almost didn’t finish the work sheet by the time class was over.

Simmons had left without another word to Grif. He was the first one out of the classroom, barely hearing Sarge’s loud goodbye of “See ya tomorrow, maggots!” 

Simmons sat up on his bed with a loud groan. He had to stop thinking about this. Grif was just trying to psych him out for being a freshman, that’s what upperclassman did to underclassman? Now that he thought about it, what grade was Grif in actually? From was Sarge said he guessed that he was held back or something.

The train of thought he had going on was starting to calm him down. Yeah, he was just trying to be annoying, that’s all. No truth to it. Grif definitely didn’t think that he was cute.

Simmons smiled, finally get out of his funk now that he was alone in his room with just his thoughts. There was one good thing that did happen that day. He saw up on a bulletin board that there was a signup sheet for the Mathletes. That had been his other goal, to join Mathletes and become captain by the time he was a Junior. Although, he knew that his Dad wouldn’t encourage him in his mathematic endeavors, the man have been a sports fan since he left the womb. He figured that he would just tell him he was playing football or something instead of solving equations competitively.

Now, with thoughts of Grif off his mind for the time being, he was able to sit down and do his homework. When he was done, he walked downstairs and apologized to his Mom for being rude, telling her that he was just tired from the long day and wanted to take a nap.

That night, when he was on the edge of unconsciousness, he thought about what first period tomorrow would bring. Maybe if Grif was just trying to annoy him it wouldn’t be that bad. Two could play at that game.

Except Grif wasn’t there by the time the bell rang. Simmons sat by himself at their lab table the next day, looking at the empty seat next to him. How was he already absent? Was he already skipping class on the second day of school?

Sarge barely noticed that Grif was gone, but when he did realize it he almost let out a cheer of excitement, spilling coffee from his “Father of the Year” mug. He then merrily passed out the chemicals they were going to be working with for the lab that day.

Simmons let out a small sigh of relief. He was going to have some peace and quiet. He wouldn’t have to worry about Grif while he enjoyed himself with his Chemistry. Sarge explained the lab they were going to do, they would place different kinds of solids into different kinds of chemicals to see their reaction. There were three chemicals: Hydrogen Peroxide, Phosphoric Acid, and something that just looked like colored water. It probably was colored water after overhearing Sarge bitching about the lack of budget the science department had. He told everyone that it was Chlorine. Simmons readied himself for the task, slipping on his unneeded gloves and awkwardly putting the lab goggles over his glasses. It made it harder to see but you know, safety first.

Just as Simmons was about to put a piece of Sulphur into the Hydrogen Peroxide the door opened. He looked up, barely being able to see with his glasses pressed harshly against his goggles, and saw his lab partner saunter into the classroom with no pass or anything. Sarge gave him a look of distaste as the lazy student whistled his way to his seat next to Simmons.

“Sup, nerd,” he greeted around the mouthful of donut he was chewing on. Simmons narrowed his eyes at his lab partner.

“You shouldn’t eat around the chemicals, moron.” Simmons prided himself on adding the insult at the end. He figured if they had a good back and forth of insults to each other then Grif would be too annoyed at him to bother him and Simmons would get to work in peace. Also he would never ever know if what he said about Simmons being cute was the truth or just something to get him worked up about.

Grif raised a curious eyebrow at the red head before a small grin appeared on his face. “Ah, so you do have a mind of your own, congrats.” He then took another bite of his chocolate donut before leaning over one of the beakers to smell the chemicals.

“Are you stupid or something? Do you want to die?” Simmons feigned annoyance, knowing that he was only smelling the colored water and not dangerous chemicals.

“Why? What’s in here?” he asked, looking actually kind of worried.

Simmons quickly hid is grin, coming up with a lie that was sure to make Grif piss his pants. “Acetone, just smelling it can put you in a chemical induced coma, dumbass.”

The look of Grif’s face was priceless. Of course it wasn’t actually Acetone but just knowing Grif thought it was almost brought tears of joy to his eyes.

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you? They wouldn’t let that kind of shit into school,” Grif hissed, his eyebrows furrowed together in annoyance.

“I’m not dude, trust me. Does your mouth feel dry at all? That’s one of the symptoms,” Simmons told him, plastering on a face of worry and seriousness. But inside he was dying, oh my god, this guy was an idiot.

Grif rubbed his throat and swallowed harshly. “Uh, yeah, a little.” Simmons knew he would have a dry throat. Eating a chocolaty donut without any milk? Please, it was like Grif wanted him to prank him. Now he was paranoid, time to go into round two.

“Do you feel dizzy at all?” Simmons asked, putting a hand on Grif’s shoulder in mock comfort.

“Now that you say it, yeah, I feel kind of dizzy,” Grif said, holding a hand to his head.

“Grif, I think you should get to a hospital, you know, before you fall into a coma for the rest of your life,” Simmons said, making sure that the serious tone in his voice didn’t break.

“SARGE HELP ME I’M DYING,” Grif suddenly yelled in a panic, bolting up from his chair, making the whole class turn around and eye Grif oddly.

Simmons heard Caboose say, “He’s dieting?”

“NO YOU IDIOT I’M DYING, I’M GOING TO GO INTO A COMA AND MY FAMILY’S GONNA PULL THE PLUG ON ME AFTER YEARS OF EMOTIONAL TORMOIL AND FEEDING TUBS, SOMEONE CALL 911!” Grif was actually panicking right now and that’s when Simmons broke down laughing.

“Oh my God, you’re such an idiot!” he wheezed in between laughs, pounding his gloved fists onto the table, not being able to keep the tears from his eyes.

“What?” Grif asked, giving Simmons a confused stare.

“It’s not Acetone, its fucking colored water!” Simmons revealed, holding his stomach as it started to cramp up from him laughing so damn hard. “Payback, motherfucker!”

Grif stared at him blankly, as did the rest of the class (Sarge on the other hand was shaking with laughter). “You mean, you tricked me into thinking I was going to go into a coma?”

“Duh,” he told him as his laugher started to die down.

Grif was silent for a moment, a dumbfound look plaguing his usually relaxed features. “Impressive, nerd. Seems like I’ve underestimated you.”

That wasn’t really the response he was expecting from his lab partner. It almost made Simmons smile knowing that Grif at least somewhat respected him.

His whole body tensed though when Grif leaned into his ear and whispered, “You’ve just awakened the beast.”

“Everyone, Simmons gets an A for the year, that was fantastic! You should’ve seen the look on your face, Grif. Absolutely priceless! I took a picture with my phone thingy, it’s going to go up on my mantle above my fireplace!” Sarge was still laughing to himself, some students joining him.

All Simmons could do was mentally slap himself.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?


	3. Helium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to everyone who commented and left kudos on this!

Simmons was absolutely, positively, piss your pants terrified as he walked into school the next day. Grif’s hushed words still echoed in his mind. He had to physically stop his teeth from chattering. What did he mean by the beast? How entirely fucked was Simmons?

He almost contemplated feigning sickness that morning but he knew he couldn’t give up his perfect attendance he’s had since middle school. He would just have to suck up whatever Grif’s horrifying plan of revenge was.

Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, Grif seemed like a lazy kind of person, and cultivating a strategic revenge tactic seemed like too much effort for him. He took a deep breath before walking into the Chemistry room. His eyes went slightly wide when he saw that Grif was the first person there, already sitting down at their table with a smug look on his face. Fuck. Simmons was so fucked he could’ve sworn he lost his virginity right then and there.

Simmons tore his eyes away from the glare Grif was sending him, staring down at his maroon converse as he shuffled slow and quietly to his seat. God, he must’ve looked so pathetic with his head down and slumped shoulders as he walked.

“Good morning, _dick_ ,” he emphasized, making sure that Simmons knew that he meant that he was an actual dick and that he was not actually calling him by his name.

He mumbled a half ass greeting under his breath as he sat down, watching the door as sleepy students started to file into the classroom and into their seats. Grif kept looking at him and Simmons made sure not to make direct eye contact with the maniac that was his lab partner. He really hoped that whatever he was going to do to him didn’t involve spiders. Spiders were terrifying and unnecessary.

Sarge sauntered into class with his head held high, chest puffed out and hands clasped behind his back. He seemed to regain some of his military stature, a new kind of gleam in his eyes that made Simmons start to worry. Why was he in such a good mood?

“’Morning, weasels,” he greeted. He started saying something about the lesson that he had planned for the day but Simmons was still in mid panic. How could he focus on science when there could be spiders nearby?!

After multiple times of trying to get his heart rate back down to its normal pace he noticed Sarge passing something out. He threw the items onto their table, Sarge giving Simmons a genuine salute before turning back to his desk. He must’ve respected him after the whole Acetone prank he played on Grif the other day. Guess there’s always a bright side to some days.

What Sarge had passed out where little puzzle pieces that looked like different elements from the periodic table. Sarge had quickly told them that they had to work with their lab partner to put the pieces together to form the periodic table. And no cheating. Cheaters would have to stay afterschool with him and watch two hours of Spanish soap operas.

Everyone obliged.

 Sarge started to walk around the class, handing back the worksheets they did the other day while they worked. Before Simmons could even grab Hydrogen to start the periodic table, Grif had already grabbed Uranium, Argon, and Holmium, none of which were even remotely close to each other on the table.

Grif then started chuckling to himself as he put the abbreviated words together and slid them other to Simmons like he was passing him a note.

The abbreviations put together spelled: U Ar Ho.

Simmons blinked, looking down at the half assed insult with almost disappointment. “Really?” he asked, almost angry, at Grif. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“Dude, it’s funny, you just don’t get it,” he shrugged but a grin grew wider on his face when Sarge gave Simmons his work from yesterday.

As he looked down at the grade on the paper he could feel his heart stop.

It was a zero. He got a zero, everything he did was apparently wrong. He stared at it in shock, no this never happened, he’s never gotten a zero before in his life!

Grif’s laughing was what gave it away. Simmons clenched his teeth together as he looked over his answers. They weren’t his answers. It wasn’t even his handwriting.

“You know when you asked me to hand that in for you yesterday?” Grif asked, eyes shining with a sort of mischief you only saw in poltergeists and cats. “Well, before I did that, I erased everything you wrote and put in my own answers.”

Simmons stared at him dumbfounded. “You-You, what?! Why?!”

“Because I know a nerds weakness and that’s a low grade. Trust me, by the end of this year you’ll be failing so badly that you’re gonna be held back to kindergarten.”

“So will you, asshole!” Simmons was beyond furious. His face had turned to an ugly shade of red, steam practically blowing out of his ears. It took all his will power to not punch Grif in the face so hard that his parents wouldn’t be able to identify him.

“Do you really think I care?” he giggled, grabbing more of the element puzzle pieces to see if he could make more insults out of them.

Simmons didn’t talk to him for the rest of the class, even when Grif jabbed him in the side, even when Sarge came over and asked when the next show was because dang if he couldn’t wait to see Grif scream like a little girl again.

After class Simmons knew what was going to happen. War.

But first some ice cream to cheer him up.

Then war.

The next time an opportunity to strike came about was a week later when they were going to work with Bunsen Burners. Sarge really only told them about it was that no fire was worse than Hell fire and told Grif to keep that in mind when he doesn’t see a white light.

Over the past week they had only been insulting each other, really only petty gabs that didn’t get to either of them. Now though was the time to do something bigger and Simmons was not going to let it slip through his fingers.

Simmons surprisingly convinced Grif to put on at least his protective goggles and even got him to plug in the Bunsen burner to the gas hose for him. While Grif was struggling to connect the two things Simmons had discreetly turned the knob on the burner to high. He watched as Grif was slowly able to get the two connected, then turned the knob to release the gas.

That’s when the top of the burner shot up the biggest flame Simmons had seen since the comments section of a YouTube video. Grif jumped back in surprise and Simmons mouth dropped open when he realized the front part of Grif’s messy bangs had caught on fire. As Simmons turned off the burner he heard Tucker yell, “Stop, drop, and roll dude!”

Grif did what he was told in a furry of shrieks, collapsing onto the linoleum floor and rolling around like he was dog trying to win a treat from his owner. It was fucking hilarious.

What made it even better was when Sarge ran over to the collapsed, on fire Grif and sprayed him with a fire extinguisher.

“OW, OW, COLD, COLD, COLD,” Grif yelled through the substance that was being used to get rid of the fire on him. Sarge probably blasted him with it for longer than he needed to but Grif was okay. He stood up, teeth clattering, rubbing his hands together.

“How’s my hair?” he asked, looking at Simmons anxiously.

“A bit singed,” he said through a laugh that burst out of his mouth unexpectedly.

“I hate you,” Grif growled, shoving Simmons shoulder.

“I know,” Simmons smiled and watched as Sarge walked back to his desk in a flurry of laugher.

To be honest, Simmons was surprised that Sarge hadn’t given him a detention for practically lighting Grif on fire. He guessed that the older teacher was enjoying their little prank war and wanted to see how far it would go. Man, he sure did like to see Grif freaking out. Simmons had to agree, the look on his face is always fucking priceless.

Grif was able to get his revenge a few days later, even if it did kind of backfire on him.

They were working with chemicals again, this time just writing down observations about the various different substances, like smell, color, consistency, etc. Grif and Simmons were currently observing Potassium, the beaker filled about halfway with water and two pieces of silvery Potassium slowly dissolving into the liquid.

Grif was trying to taste it.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Simmons scolded, hitting his lab partner upside the head as he brought the beaker to his lips.

“What? The worksheet says to write down our observations. Taste is definitely a sense of observation. And bananas have potassium in it so won’t it just taste like bananas?” Grif explained.

Simmons stared at him. He couldn’t believe this kid.

“Give it to me,” Simmons ordered, grabbing the beaker from his hand before Grif had the chance to ingest it. As he pulled away the beaker some of it spilled on Grif’s shirt.

“What the hell, dude?” he snapped.

“I swear that was an accident,” Simmons told him, putting his hands up in defense.

“Yeah, right,” Grif scoffed, wiping at the liquid that left a dark blot on his shirt. He then quickly grabbed the beaker full of bleach, splashing most of the contents onto Simmons, some of it getting on his skin. He yelped when it started to burn him, stinging like venom from a snake. Angry, Simmons grabbed the beaker and splashed the rest of its contents onto Grif who squealed when it touched his skin.

“You’re such an asshole, Simmons!” Grif yelled at him.

“Me? You splashed me first!” Simmons yelled back, holding his arm as the chemical started to burn his skin.

“No way, you totally splashed me first, fuckass!”

“That’s it, you two get in the chemical shower right now!” Sarge yelled at them from his desk. It seemed like he had watched the whole situation unfold, slightly annoyed. Fire was one thing, chemicals, that was another. Simmons wasn’t really sure what was worse but Sarge was pretty sure he was on the verge of getting sued at this point.

“But-,” the two tried to interject but was cut off by their teacher.

“Both of you. Now.” He snapped, his eyes like daggers. Simmons and Grif grumbled and complied with the old man, both of them walking over to the green shower head that hung in the back of the class room. They were slightly squished together so they both could fit under it. The whole class was staring at them as Grif grabbed the hanging lever that would turn on the shower.

Simmons turned to Grif, his face red with embarrassment, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, and said, “I hate you.”

“I know.” Then they were both blasted with a plethora of cold water that made them shiver.

Simmons let out a sigh.

At least the one thing he could look forward to was Mathlete tryouts.


	4. Lead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want you can follow me on tumblr! It's dextersgrifs.tumblr.com :)
> 
> Also a warning, there is angst in this chapter. Sorry.

Simmons was content. If he could describe his high school experience so far, he would use that word. It was a good word, used when someone isn’t necessarily happy or sad, just floating in the limbo in between the too, letting the calm waves push them back in forth. It was a weird feeling for him, usually he would be a little anxious when at school but also excited for learning something new. This was different. It was a whole new experience. Simmons wondered if all this stemmed from Grif.

His interacting with Grif has changed a lot of things for him. After witnessing their little prank war in class, Church and his maybe, not really sure, kind of upperclassman girlfriend, Tex, invited him to a party. They actually invited _him._ Church told him “that shit you did in chem class, that was fuckin hilarious brah.” Tex nodded in the stoic and ominous way she always did. Simmons really need to catch up on the gossip around school because really what the hell was going on between those two? Anyway, Simmons was so awestruck that he actually got invited to a party with real people and real booze that it took him a few solid seconds for him to come up with a coherent answer. He politely declined in the coolest way possible (“Sorry, I can’t, I got stuff you know? And things, things and stuff”). He knew he wasn’t ready for that big of a jump on the social ladder. He had to work his way up to parties. They both understood and told him that if he found the time he was welcome to stop by.

Simmons also found himself more relaxed and carefree, not as uptight as he used to be. He would usually work on homework right when he got home. He would work on it for hours. Now he actually takes some free time to catch up on _Battlestar Galactica_ and play some video games before even looking at the stacks of paper on his desk. It was nice, not worrying so much.

But there were also bad things that accompanied the presence of Grif. For one thing, they are both so distracted by each other’s antics in class that they rarely ever get any work done. Simmons grade for the class was a low C, which was something he had never ever gotten in his entire life. Like ever. Simmons knew he would have to ask Sarge for extra credit at some point before the marking period was over. He just hoped that it wouldn’t a group project with Grif. The more he’s around him the more distracted he gets.

Which brought him to another thing. Sometimes in class Simmons would find Grif staring at him. One time when Simmons questioned him Grif answered, “I’m counting your freckles.” Grif then seemed to snap out of the daze he was in and realize what he said. He averted his glance from Simmons before adding, “Because this class is so fucking boring, there’s not much else I can do.”

Simmons couldn’t help but think of how Grif had called him cute on the first day of school and how sometimes Grif would move his seat a couple inches closer to him and how he just kept starting at him like he was the most fascinating thing in the classroom. Did Dexter Grif really have a crush on him?

It’s not even like they were friends or anything! Though, they weren’t really enemies either. Sure, they pranked each other, threw insults at each other, occasionally set the each other on fire, but they always laughed about it together after class. A good word to describe them would be frenimies. But Simmon’s still wasn’t sure. It would be nice to have someone to call a friend. Even if it was an idiot like Grif.

The worst part was that Simmons would catch himself doing the same thing that Grif would. He would stare at Grif as he walked over to Sarge’s desk to put a pushpin on his seat and feel his stomach start to do backflips every time they accidently touched. What was wrong with him? Was this how a somewhat friendship was supposed to feel?

Simmons was happy that he had Mathlete tryouts to keep him distracted. It was one day after school when he tried out. The Captain of the team, everyone called him Delta, was fair and logical, giving them a series of equations and a time limit for them to complete them in. Simmons answered them at practically the speed of light (although that was impossible) and was confident in his answers as he was the first one to hand them in to Delta.

Today was not a content day for Simmons. Although he was confident he did good at the tryouts, his stomach was still churning. He felt like he was going to puke. They were going to post the list of people who made the team on the bulletin board in front of the cafeteria at the end of the day. Simmons just had to get through a few more periods before he could find out.

Grif seemed to notice how nervous he was during Chemistry. “What’s wrong with you? You look like you just saw a raccoon eating a baby.”

“First of all, that’s disgusting,” Simmons said, turning towards him to cast him a look. “And second of all, none of your business.”

Simmons heard his lab partner huff as he turned back to face the front of the classroom. “Someone’s grumpy,” he heard Grif mumble.

If he had still been looking at Grif he would’ve seen the sly smile on his face.

There wasn’t a lot of people left in the halls of the school once the last bell rang. They all left to go home or were walking to afterschool activities. Simmons was currently trying to calm himself down as he walked over to the bulletin board.

As he approached it he closed his eyes, taking a in a few deep breaths before looking at the sheet of paper. His green eyes wove down the list in search for his name.

It wasn’t there.

It wasn’t there, why wasn’t it there? He didn’t make the team? But-But he thought he did so well!

That’s when he heard the laugh that no one could mistake. The loud, crackly laugh that stemmed into almost nothingness. Grif.

Simmons turned around, face beat red and his eyes welled up with tears he didn’t know had been there. “What the hell are you laughing at?”

Grif wiped a tear from his eye as he calmed himself down. “Pretty good prank, huh? And another point goes to Dexter Grif!”

It took a second for Simmons to realize what he meant by that. “You mean, you did this?” he asked, halfheartedly pointing to the list behind him.  

“Yup, I snuck in after tryouts and replaced your answer sheet with mine,” Grif said with a hollow laugh. “You, uh, you don’t look so good Simmons, are you okay?”

Simmons hands had curled into fist at this point. His whole body was shaking with anger, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to push back the tears. He couldn’t believe this.

“This,” he was able to choke out, trying to continue his sentence without his voice cracking, “This was the one thing I was looking forward to for such a long time. My whole life I have been bullied for being a nerd and I thought that if I was a Mathlete I would’ve been able to bond with people like me. I would’ve felt safe again. And-And you took that away from me because you thought it would be funny?!”

Simmons watched as Grif’s face fell into a mix of guilt and pity. His lab partner looked at him with sympathetic eyes that Simmons just couldn’t look at. Before Grif was even able to say “I’m sorry” Simmons added, “And I thought we were on the way to becoming friends. Maybe even-,” he stopped himself there before he said something he would regret. “You would’ve been my first real friend, you know that? Now you just fucked it up, you cockbite.”

Simmons stormed away, walking as fast as he could towards the door, ignoring the shouted apology that was coming from Grif. He was done, he didn’t want to hear any apologies from that asshole. He gets that he wanted to be funny but this was crossing a line.

When Simmons got home he ran straight to his room. Tears were streaming down his fact, letting out a sob that had been caught in the back of his throat throughout the whole walk home. He thought things were changing for him. Guess he would always be a loser, huh?

That night he wondered if he would be able to talk to Delta, to try to explain the situation to him. Then maybe he would let him on the team. He wondered how he was going to be able to sit next to Grif the next day in Chemistry, how he would even been able to look at him with nothing but hatred in his eyes.

This fucking sucked.

When he walked into Chemistry Grif was already there. His eyes, the color of which reminded Simmons pleasantly of Butterbeer and honey, were looking at him apologetically. He looked tired, more so than usual, and he was holding an envelope that he was nervously fiddling with.

Simmons shot him a glare, so harsh that Grif had to look away. Simmons almost felt bad for a moment before he remembered what that asshat did.

Simmons sat down next to him and crossed his arms, refusing to tear his eyes away from Sarge writing something on the whiteboard.

“Simmons-,”

“Save it, shit head.”

“I’m sorry, I hope you know that. Here,” Grif slid the envelope over to Simmons who looked down at it, confused.

“What’s this?” it came out as more of a command than a question.

“Just open it,” Grif told him, a worried crack in his voice.

Simmons stared at it for a few seconds before taking the envelope and opening it. He couldn’t help if he was naturally curious, even while he was angry.

He opened up the nicely folded letter to see handwriting that was way nicer than Grif’s. It read:

_Richard Simmons,_

_I have been informed about the situation that has occurred and that the answers I received we not yours but one Dexter Grif’s. We were able to read over your original answers and hereby accept you as a member of our team. We look forward to seeing you at our first practice on Friday._

_Sincerely,_

_Delta_

Simmons stared over at Grif in disbelief, grasping the letter tightly as if he would lose it to the smallest gust of wind.

“They found out?” he asked in a small voice.

“I came in early this morning to find Delta and explain what happened. I had kept your original answers so I was able to give it back to him. I told you, I was sorry. I didn’t realize how much that meant to you,” Grif said, still avoiding looking at him.

“ _You_ came in _early_?” Was the first thing Simmons said.

“Hey, I got you on your dream team and that’s all you have to say to me?” Grif huffed.

“To be fair, you’re the one that got me off my dream team in the first place,” Simmons pointed out.

Grif rolled his eyes, the ones that shone a little brighter than before. “I know, but how many times do I have to say sorry?”

“Why did you do this anyway? You don’t seem like someone who would willingly go out and fix one of their mistakes,” Simmons asked, tucking the letter neatly away in his backpack, already excited for Friday.

Grif shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “What you said yesterday really got me I guess. I-I didn’t know all that stuff about you. And it really sucks that you were hurt so often and I made it worse by adding a bruise to the bunch. A-And it would be nice to be your friend, Simmons.”

Grif was not the brightest bulb in the bunch. Grif was like an anglerfish, only bright when it’s trying to get food. But Simmons knew that brains weren’t the only organ in the human body. There was also the heart. And it seemed like Grif had a lot more of it than Simmons had originally thought. Sure, he did get Simmons into one of the most gut wrenching, saddening experiences of his life, but he was also there to get him out of it.

That’s why Simmons wrapped his arms around Grif and pulled him into a tight hug. “Thanks,” he said into his ear. He could feel Grif’s body temperature rise to an above average heat and felt a hand pat him reassuringly on the back.

“Y-You’re welcome,” Grif stuttered but Simmons saw his smile when he pulled away.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Simmons,” he heard Sarge say from the front of the classroom. “His stupidity is contagious!”

Simmons just laughed as his friend pouted. His friend.

He was really happy to call him that.


	5. Oxygen

The first Mathlete practice was great for Simmons. They practiced mostly Geometry that day, which Simmons was, to be honest, a little rusty at. But Delta was there to help him and soon he was zooming through problems in no time. It made him happy to think that he finally found a place where he belonged, where the people accepted him and cheered him on and loved the same things he did.

There was still one problem that he had to overcome, though. His grade in Chemistry was shit, he had to at least get it up to a B before the end of the marking period. So, he asked Sarge the following Monday if there was any extra credit he could do to get his grade up.

“Uh, I don’t know, make me a potato clock,” he said, not even really paying attention to Simmons.

“Sir, I don’t think that’s really Chemistry,” Simmons pointed out.

“Do you want extra credit or not, son?!” he snapped, averting his eyes away from his computer to shoot a glare at Simmons. “Now make me a gosh darn potato clock!”

Simmons let out a defeated sigh but inside he was grateful; potato clocks were pretty easy to make. He remembered making one in fourth grade for the science fair. Simmons nodded and just as he was about to leave Sarge said, “And do it with Grif.”

Simmons felt all the blood rush to his face and his body go still. “W-W-What sir?!”

“Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, private,” Sarge said, accidently reverting back to military speech. “I meant do that project with Grif. He needs a grade booster too and I do not want to have him again next year.”

Simmons mentally slapped Sarge in the face, then mentally apologized, then mentally walked away in shame. Although he and Grif were now friends, but still drive each other crazy every class, he wanted to do the project by himself. It was easier to focus when Grif wasn’t around.

“Okay, sir,” Simmons said then sulked out of the classroom.

Simmons was able to track down Grif after the last bell rang. He was, surprise, in the cafeteria getting a snack from the vending machine.

“Sup Simmons,” he greeted as he started to hit the vending machine in seemingly random places. “Check this, the lunch ladies taught me how to get food out of the vending machines without paying, you just got it hit it a few times in the right spot…” he grinned after he hit it once more, watching a snickers bar fall from its place to the bottom of the machine. Grif quickly grabbed it and unwrapped it, ready to munch down on his free, and also stolen, treat.

“We’re doing an extra credit project,” Simmons told him just as he took a bite.

“Awwwww, what?” he groaned with a mouth full of candy bar. “I hate extra credit! It’s like, doing extra stuff, more than doing normal stuff. I hate doing stuff, Simmons!”

“Do you want to take Chemistry again next year?” Simmons raised an incredulous eyebrow at his friend. Grif grumbled and swallowed, head hanging low as to avoid answering the question. “I thought so.”

“What do we have to do?” Grif asked, leaning against the vending machine in defeat.

“Make a potato clock. We should set up a schedule when we should do it, do you want to go to my house or to yours? And what kind of potato’s should we use, organic or generic? I think organic would be better because it keeps in all the electrolytes-,”

“Whoa, slow down,” Grif said, extending an arm to motion Simmons to stop. “Let’s just go over to my house now, I’m pretty sure we have potatoes, and just get it over with.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Simmons said, rubbing the back of his neck. Why did he suddenly feel awkward and nervous about going over to Grif’s house? Was that just too intimate of an idea? No, it wasn’t, they were just friends, friends go over to each other’s houses all the time. At least, that’s what Simmons told himself.

“You ride a bike to school, right?” Grif asked, finishing off his snickers bar.

“Sometimes, yeah. I have it today,” Simmons answered.

“Good, me too. Just follow me to my house,” Grif said and they both walked out of the school together and to the bike rack.

The trip was a little longer than Simmons trip back home, which was longer than a normal person because of his leg. Simmons had lost the part of his leg from his foot to his shin to an infection when he was really little so he had a prosthetic. Just add that to the list of his insecurities. But besides that, how Grif was able to ride that far was beyond him, and soon enough they stopped in front of the biggest house Simmons had ever seen in person.

“What the-,” Simmons stared, staring at the house in awe.

“My Mom’s super talented, you know how a circus has a fat lady and a bearded lady?” he asked as he dropped his and Simmons bike on the concrete driveway. “She’s both. She just rakes in the cash. And my other Mom is a marine biologist, she did tons of shit when we lived in Hawaii, now she just takes it easy ‘cos she’s got a bad back.”

“Moms?” Simmons couldn’t help but have that question escape his mouth.

“Yeah, I have two Moms, that a problem?” Grif gave him a look that told Simmons that if he ever said anything about it he would punch him right in the dick.

“No, of course not,” Simmons said honestly. He didn’t have a problem with other peoples sexual orientation. Considering he was still discovering his.

As soon as they walked through the probably oak, maybe maple, wood door Simmons heard a high pitched, loud voice, ask, “Hey Dex, is this your boyfriend?”

Again, Simmons face went red on the spot, avoiding the gaze of a small, skinny, long haired girl as she pranced over to them.

“Shut up, Kaikaina, we’re not together, we’re just lab partners,” Grif told her, although Simmons heard what almost sounded like disappointment in his voice.

“Sure,” she dragged out, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Hey, is that my vodka?” Grif asked, snatching an expensive looking, alcohol filled bottle from the girl named Kaikaina. “You know what I told you about taking my stuff!”

“Oh come on, like you’d drink the whole thing!” Kaikaina put her hands on her hips, pouting at Grif like she was five years old.

“Y-Your parents let you drink?” Simmons squeaked out, looking at Grif instead of Kaikaina. The question came out literally as a squeak, all high pitched and fucking embarrassing. He tried to ignore the loud laugh that Kaikaina let out.

“Of course not, dumbass,” Grif said, smacking his arm lightly. “My parents went back to Honolulu to visit family and shit, they’re gonna be gone for a while.”

Simmons just nodded, not daring to speak another word in fear that it might come out sounding like a dying hamster.

“I’m going to go for a swim,” Kaikaina said, taking off her shirt to reveal a bikini top. Simmons blush just got worse. How was it that these people were so comfortable around strangers? Did they lack insecurity or basic teenage emotions? “Wear protection!” she called back as she walked away, sending a wink in their direction. Simmons had now gone full tomato and there was no going back.

“Sorry about my sister,” Grif grumbled, obviously annoyed. “She’s in eighth grade and thinks she hot shit. Anyway, what do we need for this stupid potato clock?”

Simmons blinked a couple times, still trying to stop his mind from reeling before he was able to pull out his phone. He had looked up the stuff they needed beforehand and booked marked the page with all the information on it.

“Uh, we need two potatoes, 2 nails, 2 copper wires, 3 jumper wires with alligator clips, and a battery operated LCD clock,” Simmons listed off, noticing that his hand was shaking. Why did he have to be so nervous around people all the time? He thought that he was used to being around people, thought he was done with being insecure about who he was. But now it was like all those feelings had come back tenfold. “Think you have all that?”

“One of my Mom’s is a marine biologist, remember?” Grif huffed. “I’ll go get the stuff, you can wait up in my room. It’s upstairs, first door on the right. Want anything to eat or drink?”

“N-No thanks, I’m good,” Simmons said before making his way up to Grif’s room. As he walked up the huge ass staircase he was really able to take in all of the house. It was mostly polished wood, the original wood looking old and warn, but the polish over top it giving it a new shine that wasn’t there before. Everything was paneled and a chandelier hung at the top of the ceiling, reflecting off the rays of light that shone through the windows. The house really was beautiful.

Grif’s room, not so much.

There were clothes littered all over the floor. Simmons wasn’t sure if there even _was_ a floor. He sure as hell couldn’t see it. There were also empty bags of food and beer cans lying around everywhere. The bed was unmade. Posters were slung on the wall of famous surfers and _was that a Battlestar Galactica poster?_

Suddenly Grif’s room got a whole lot better. Simmons shrugged and put his backpack down on a chair piled high with more clothes and discarded video game cases. On the wall opposite his bed was the biggest TV Simmons had ever seen. It was practically the size of a billboard. Simmons had to stop himself from gasping.

He didn’t know where to sit, considering the only place to sit that wasn’t piled high with shit was the bed and no way in hell was he going to sit there without Grif’s permission, so he stood awkwardly in his room.

He figured now was a good time to send his Mom a quick text that he was over a friend’s house, so he did just that. She didn’t answer back so he figured she was busy.

Grif returned a few minutes later, arms full of random shit they needed for their potato clock, along with a bag of Cheetos. He tossed it all onto his unmade bed with a sigh before turning back to Simmons.

“Alright, let’s get working. And I mean that you should get working, like hell if I know how to make this. Or want to. You mind?” Grif asked, raising an eyebrow. Simmons was surprised he even bothered to ask if he was cool with doing all the work.

“Yeah,” Simmons said and started to organize everything while Grif grabbed the Cheetos and started munching on them. He sat down on the edge of the bed and patted next to him. “What, you going to stand there all day?”

Well, if Grif was cool with it, then he guessed he could sit on his bed. For some reason it felt like an intimate act, sitting on someone else’s bed, but Grif’s bed was so fucking comfy Simmons didn’t even care anymore.

“Temperpedic,” Grif told him proudly. Simmons let out a small laugh before getting to work.

He had been right before when he said that making a potato clock was pretty easy. Soon enough he was almost done, Grif not even finishing his bag of Cheetos yet. And the whole time he was just watching Simmons work, his eyes lingering as Simmons fingers laced around wires or inspected the potatoes. It made Simmons a little self-conscious but at the same time it made him feel all warm inside.

“Hey, Grif, can you help me with something?” Simmons asked, peeling his eyes away from the potatoes to look at Grif.

Grif let out a groan, wiping Cheeto dust off his fingers with his bed sheets. Simmons inwardly cringed. “I thought I didn’t have to do anything?”

“It’s just one thing, you’ll live,” Simmons grumbled, giving Grif two of the copper wires. “Can you cut these? Just take one inch off. And make sure you use the wire strippers. I just need to fix these nails, they won’t stay in for some reason.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever Simmons,” he sighed, taking the wires. A few moments later he handed them back, cut messily. Simmons had finally gotten the nails to stay in the potatoes and he threw up a fist in triumph. He heard Grif’s mumble of “nerd” but ignored it. The next thing he had to do was attach the wires to the nails. He quickly cut some pieces of electrical tape and took the wires that Grif cut. He started to wrap the frayed edges around the nail, the exposed part rubbing against the metal. Which was very bad because a second later a spark erupted from the two and sent a large jolt through Simmons who ended up falling off the edge of the bed and onto the floor.

“Fuck, Simmons are you okay?” he heard Grif as he followed Simmons to the floor to lean over him. Simmons head felt fuzzy, his fingertips numb as he tried to move them. His vision was slightly blurred too, so he could only make out the hard lines in Grif’s face. Grif’s really nice face. For some reason, even while everything was blurry, everything felt so clear. He knew why he would stare at Grif for longer than he should, he knew why he was more nervous and insecure around him, he knew why every time they touched he felt a jolt just like the one he received.

He was crushing mad hard on Dexter Grif.

And as Grif was yelling at him, asking if he was okay, swearing to himself over and over again, Simmons had one of those things that happen to you when you have a near death experience. Although this wouldn’t really count as one, it was really only a shock, but he had it anyway.

He had no idea what he would do without Grif in his life.

“D-Did you use the wire strippers like I told you to?” he muttered.

Grif gave him a guilty look. “I used scissors, aren’t they the same thing.”

Simmons let out a genuine laugh as he stared at his friend, his vision starting to come back. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know, I’m-,” But Simmons didn’t let him finish. He grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and harsh pulled him down, interlocking their lips. He felt Grif go ridged at first, confused as to why he was being kissed by the biggest nerd in school, before relaxing as he let Simmons kiss him. This was Simmons first kiss, he had no clue what to do, so he just stayed with their lips together for a few seconds before pulling apart.

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Grif smiled and kissed him again, this time with much more enthusiasm. He moved so that he was straddling Simmons, his hands raking over his chest as he moved their lips back and forth like waves.

Grif tasted like Cheetos, that was the first observation Simmons was able to make. He was sure that Simmons tasted like metal and static but it seemed like Grif didn’t care. But God, kissing, kissing was so nice. Why hadn’t he done it sooner?

That’s when Simmons realized he wasn’t doing anything with his hands. Should he be doing something with his hands? Yeah, he probably should, considering Grif’s hands were all over his upper half, as if looking for treasure. Simmons lifted his arms and placed his hands around Grif’s waist, gripping tight as Grif moved against his body.

Soon enough he felt Grif’s tongue enter his mouth. It was weird, having someone else’s tongue in your mouth. It was wet and kind of gross but it made Simmons moan against Grif’s lips. He felt Grif smile and push his tongue deeper in his mouth, counting his teeth with his tongue.

Grif then pulled away, moving over to Simmons’ pale and freckled neck. He started to kiss lightly along it before sucking on it, teeth biting down slightly, but Simmons was sure they would leave marks. Grif’s hand then moved to, oh shit, was that where it was going? Simmons didn’t even realize that his pants felt tighter and god, Grif’s hand felt good against his boner. He wouldn’t admit it but he hitched his hips up against his palm for more friction. He just wanted more, oh fuck, he wanted more-

What the fuck was he doing?

He was hardcore making out with his lap partner, his only friend. They were supposed to be making a potato clock for fucks sake. And-And when had he suddenly decide he wanted this, that he wanted any kind of relationship at all? He barely knew how to act around people, let alone Grif. It was like that part of his mind that had been so clear before had suddenly vanished and it left him scared and confused. He didn’t want this, did he? No, this was just primal instinct, Grif was just hitting all the right places on his nervous system to get him turned on. There weren’t any feelings. Especially any gay ones. God, Simmons suddenly felt so scared and vulnerable in this territory that it made him want to throw up. He couldn’t do this he couldn’t do this he couldn’t do this.

That’s when Simmons harshly pushed Grif off him, Grif landing to the ground beside him with a loud thud.

“What the hell, Simmons?”

Simmons got up as fast as he could, ignoring the dull pain in his crotch from the loss of contract, ignoring the pain from his neck from Grif sucking on it like a lollipop. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I-I just can’t, I’m sorry.”

He felt tears start to stream done his face as he grabbed his bag and left the room as quickly as possible, running down the stairs and out the door, ignoring the calling of his name from behind him. He just grabbed his bike, which was painful to sit on because, you know, erections and shit, and rode home.

When he got home he ran straight to his room, closing the door, throwing his backpack onto his bed, and sliding down against the door. He hugged his knees and sobbed against them, taking in deep breaths and ignoring the guilty feeling that was left in the pit on his stomach.

Simmons just made a huge mistake. The problem was, was it because he kissed Grif or because he stopped?


	6. Copper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I had my High School graduation last week and then I went on vacation so I didn't have time to write. 
> 
> WARNING: There are descriptions of violence and slurs used in this chapter. 
> 
> Sorry for the angst.

Simmons couldn’t sleep that night. He kept staring at the ceiling, thinking and thinking and thinking, replaying that moment when Grif’s lips were on his. It was almost like he could still feel it, the warmth that spread from his lips to his entire body. But all he felt was cold.

Luckily the next day was some kind of holiday that let them stay home from school that Simmons forgot the name of, or didn’t care to remember, so he stayed in bed with the covers draped over almost every part of his body, as if he was trying to recreate the warmth that Grif brought him. It didn’t work.

He spent the entire day like this, sweating under his covers, watching Star Trek and not bothering to eat or drink anything. Simmons had this weird sense of logic that maybe if he just didn’t do anything that he was disappear into the void and never have to face his problems ever again. He would close his eyes and expect it, William Shatners voice echoing through his ears as he waited for oblivion to take him.

Of course, that didn’t happen. It just made him feel like shit and made his mouth dry. His face still felt sticky from the tears that he would occasionally shed. He should really take a shower or something. But he couldn’t find it in him to move.

He liked kissing Grif. He really did, there was no denying that. The feelings were the problem. Simmons had never felt like this before and he didn’t know how to handle it. And it was Grif for fucks sakes. A _guy._ He could only imagine what his Dad would say if he ever found out and it shook him to his core.

Speaking of his Dad, he could hear him yelling at his Mom over something. Simmons didn’t even realize that he was home until he took a look at the clock that read 5:30 pm. He was home from work. Simmons turned down the TV to try to hear them better. He could only hear a few things, muffled by the walls around him. They were arguing about him. His Dad was complaining that he should be using this time to practice football, leg be damned, not watching some sci fi shit in bed. His Mom made some excuse about Simmons not feeling good, which wasn’t exactly a lie.

A few minutes later and the yelling stopped. Simmons could smell mashed potatoes from his room and suddenly his mouth started to water. He was starving. If oblivion wasn’t in the mood to turn him into particles then he might as well eat something.

So, with the thought of only creamy, buttery, mashed potatoes on his mind, Simmons slipped out of bed and headed downstairs in a ratty t-shirt and sweatpants, sluggishly putting on his glasses as he walked down the stair case. He felt his bones crack and his muscles whine as he stretched and yawned away the day spent doing nothing.

“Hey, sweetie,” his Mom smiled at him as she started to put food on plates. “You’re just in time for dinner.”

Simmons tried to say something but his throat was too sore from crying and lack of usage so he just nodded and stood at the foot of the kitchen, not wanting to sit down next to his father at the breakfast bar.

He could see his Dad grin in his peripheral vision. He was a big, muscly man, so he was kind of hard to miss. “Where were you yesterday?” he asked, grin spread wide across his face like a sleazy crocodile or some other phrase from _The Grinch_ that fit his Father perfectly.

Simmons raised an eyebrow. His Dad never bothered to ask about his personal life. “I was at Grif’s yesterday working on a science project, I told Mom that,” he answered, his voice cracking slightly. He coughed to try to get it back to normal. His Dad’s grin was instantly wiped from his face. Simmons looked over at his Mom to see that she was giving him a purely horrified look. What did he do wrong?

His Dad stood up, the stool he was sitting on raking against the floor like nails on a chalk board. Simmons could feel his heart jump to his throat, slowly suffocating him with fear as his Dad walked closer to loom over him. His shadow alone covered Simmons in darkness and he suddenly missed that warm feeling again.

“Then where did you get those?” he growled, poking his neck harshly in various different spots.

“Wha-,” That’s when he remembered. He had played over the memory so many times but yet he forgot about the stupid fucking hickies that Grif left on his neck. They were probably red, maybe a little black and blue, Simmons didn’t get a chance to look at his lab partner’s handy work.

“Did he do this to you?” he probed, stepping closer and closer until Simmons’ back was up against the wall behind him.

“Dick,” he Mom called out. He and his Father both turned to look at her, the terrified expression still etched on her face. She was talking to his Father. The bastard he shared a name with. “Just leave it be.”

“No, Jane,” his Dad retorted before turning back towards Simmons so fast it made him jump. “Don’t lie to me, where did these come from?”

Simmons’ mind went into overdrive as he tried to think of a response. He couldn’t lie, if he lied it would make an even worse outcome. And he was terrible at lying, so his Dad would know. But if he told him the truth he would still get punished. He was stuck between a rock and a fucking wall made of spikes and this was only going to end badly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I really didn’t,” Simmons sobbed, feeling the tears fall down his face for the thousandth time that day. This time just for a different reason. “I won’t see him again if that’s what you want.” That’s it, bargain, try to keep some ounce of dignity that you may or may not have left, he thought.

“That’s not what I want,” his Dad said and suddenly he felt a hand clenched around his throat, pushing him even harder into the wall. He felt all the air fly out of him and he was left petrified, not able to move against the strong grip of his Father. “I didn’t raise you to be like this. To be some-some crippled faggot!”

His Dad lifted his leg and kicked him right in between the part that connected his fake leg with the rest of his real one. The skin was still sensitive there, even years after the surgery, so the kick sent a jolt of pain through his leg and Simmons let out a cry.

“Dick!” his Mother called again but his Father didn’t listen. He let go of his neck, giving only a second for Simmons to take a breath, before punching him square in the face. “I didn’t even _want_ you! The least you could do is try to be someone I would want to be around! Someone I would be proud of! Not some fuck up nerd!” A hit to the stomach. Simmons doubled over, surprised that he was still standing, and coughed as he once again found trouble breathing. It felt like his body was on fire, he couldn’t move and he desperately wanted to call out to oblivion, ask it one more time if it was willing to let him disappear into nothingness.

Another punch to the face and Simmons could hear his glasses crack. They were barley staying on his face and he was pretty sure that he felt some of the glass prod his skin. Blood dripped down his nose and out of his mouth, the familiar coppery taste flowing over his tongue. Except this time Grif wasn’t there to help him up. This time Simmons couldn’t make everything feel better with just one kiss.

He closed his eyes again as he could vaguely see his Dad raise his fist, between the hitting and the glasses his vision had turned fuzzy, but he didn’t feel anything. He tentatively opened his eyes and saw his Father lying down on the ground, eyes closed. He looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was his Mother. She was holding a large frying pan. Had she knocked him out?

“Run, before he wakes up,” she told him. Simmons just stared at her. “Run!”

Without thinking Simmons ran out the front door, or at least hobbled the fastest he could considering his prosthetic became partially unclipped from his leg and it was kind of dangling in his sweat pants, and got onto his bike. He was breathing heavily, coughing up blood before taking off, feeling like he was going to throw up. Everything hurt and the only way he was even moving was by the force of sheer will.

He had no idea where he was going. He had no idea where he _could_ go. His head hurt too much for him to think of a logical explanation to where he could hide. So, he kept peddling and peddling until he stopped in front of a house.

Grif’s house.

His body had subconsciously taken him to Grif’s house. He stopped, leaning against the fence while still sitting on his bike, his good leg on the ground to keep him upright.

He wasn’t even sure if he _wanted_ to be at Grif’s house. The whole reason he was in this mess in the first place was because of Grif. The stupid, lazy, slob that had managed to steal his heart with is quick, Cheeto dust covered fingers. None of this would’ve happened if Simmons had never met him.

Simmons shook his head, which made a slight pain pulse through him. That wasn’t true. This wasn’t Grif’s fault. It was Simmons fault. He acted on those feelings and he was dumb enough to put on a shirt that showed off the hickies that were left lovingly on his neck.

Still, he wasn’t sure if he should be there. If his Dad found out he went to Grif house after all this he could end up in the hospital. That’s when he thought back to when Grif had gotten him off the Mathletes. Sure, it was his fault but he had been there to fix it. He would be there to fix it again.

So, Simmons bravely got off his bike and limped to the door. He tried his hardest to stay upright as he rang the doorbell, praying to God that he would be home.

A minute later and the door open to a surprised Grif.

“Simmons? What’s the hell happened? Are you okay?” Grif’s hands reached out to grab Simmons’ shoulders, eyes scanning him for all his injuries. That’s when Simmons slumped forward a bit, now that he had something there to support him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry about yesterday, I just didn’t know, I-,” he couldn’t even form full sentences to his apology.

“Dude, it’s okay, seriously. Come on,” he said, slinging Simmons arm around his shoulders so he could support him as they walked inside. They walked carefully up the stairs and to Grif’s room where he slowly placed Simmons at the end of the bed.

“You stay right there, I’ll go get the first aid kit,” Grif said before running out of the room. Simmons had never seen Grif run before and it sure was a sight. He should make a note to remember it in case he never saw him do it again, which was a possibility.

Grif’s room was still as messy as it was yesterday. Maybe even messier but that could’ve been because Simmons couldn’t see very well at the moment. He moved his head to look at the bed behind him and quietly laughed to himself. There sat the dumb potato clock, ticking away with the power of vegetables. Grif had finished it after he left, it seemed.  

His attention snapped back to the door when Grif came in again, panting, holding a first aid kit and a wet paper towel. He said down next to Simmons and started to get stuff out of it.

“Let me see your face,” Grif said, grabbing his chin and moving his head slowly towards him. His lab partner carefully dabbed a wet paper towel on his bloodied nose and Simmons flinched from the pain and the cold.

“Sorry,” Grif apologized. “So, you gonna tell me what happened?”

Simmons stayed quiet as Grif started to rub the blood off his face. Should he tell him the truth? What would he even say? Yeah, my Dad’s an abusive asshole who keeps ruining my life. This is the first time he’s ever physically abused me but don’t worry his words over the years hurt even more than the pain I’m feeling right now. God, he just wanted to let it all out. He wanted oblivion to take his words as they spilled out stories of his dick head Father and throw them into the void so he would never have to remember a single insult slung at him. Maybe Grif could be that void.

“My Dad,” he said quietly. He didn’t say anything else but Grif understood. He threw the paper towel down on the bed forcefully before standing up and angrily running a hand through his mop of black hair.

“Simmons, I’ve gotta call the police. My phone is right downstairs, just lemme-,” he turned to walk away but Simmons quickly grabbed his hand, pulling him back.

“Grif, please, just stay here with me. Don’t leave me,” Simmons pleaded and he felt so pathetic and helpless but all he wanted with Grif by his side, holding him and telling him that everything was going to be okay.

Grif gave him a look of pity before sitting back down next to him. “He hit you anywhere else?”

“My stomach and my leg,” Simmons told him, looking at the ground, not wanting to see the pained look on Grif’s face. Simmons must’ve looked so much worse.

“Lift up your shirt, let me see,” Grif told him and Simmons did as he was told. He slowly pulled up his shirt and winced as he brushed over the sore spot. Grif didn’t touch him, just looked at him to make sure everything was okay.

“It’s bruised but I think you’re okay. If there was internal bleeding it would look a lot worse,” Grif told him, grabbing his hands to lower his shirt back down.

“How do you know all this?” Simmons asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My sister gets in a lot of fights and makes me do the dirty work of fixing her up,” Grif shrugged. “What about your leg?”

That’s when Simmons realized that Grif would want to look at his leg. His prosthetic leg that he told no one about. He moved his leg closer to him and avoided eye contact with Grif. “It’s fine,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

“No, it’s not. You were limping while we walked up here,” Grif called his bluff, narrowing his eyes at him.  

Grif moved so he was on the floor in front of Simmons to roll up his sweatpants. Simmons sighed, admitting defeat. “Listen, Grif, don’t freak out.”

“Why would I?” Grif laughed as he rolled up the pant leg to reveal his silicone leg. He stared at it for a few moments before looking back up at Simmons, golden brown eyes wide.

“What happened?” There was worry in his voice and Simmons hated it.

“I had to get it amputated when I was little because I had an infection. It’s no big deal, really,” Simmons told him. Grif nodded and rolled up his pants more to the part where it connected to his actual leg. He didn't seemed freaked out by it which made Simmons feel a lot better. He was always afraid that people would judge him for it, that's why he always wore long pants even in the hot Texas summers. But Grif didn't care and that's really all that mattered.

“This looks kind of bruised,” he told him, finger skimming over the black and blue mark on his leg. Simmons took a deep breath and tried to suck up the pain. “And your leg's kind of falling off.”

“Yeah I know. If you could strap it back in, that would be great,” Simmons told him. After a few minutes of Grif fumbling over the straps with a confused look on his face, he finally managed to fix it. He smiled and sat back down next to Simmons. His smile disappeared after a few seconds. Simmons wished he kept smiling.

“He did this because of me, didn’t he?” Grif asked, hands folded in his lap. He wasn’t looking at him and Simmons felt his heart tug painfully in his chest at Grif thinking that this was his fault.

“How’d you know?” he asked.

“I’m not stupid Simmons, Jesus,” he sighed, kicking the pile of dirty clothes in front of him. “I’m sorry, this is all my fault, and I should’ve known that not everyone is cool with gay stuff.”

“No, this is my fault. I’m the dumb one here,” Simmons told him.

“Actually, no, I take that back,” Grif said with a more determined voice. “This isn’t our fault. This is your fucking dirt bag Dad’s fault. He hurt you for no good reason and he deserves to pay.” Grif shook his head angrily, pounding a fist on the mattress.

“Can I stay here for tonight?” Simmons asked, turning the conversation away from his Dad. He didn’t want to think about it anymore.

“Of course,” Grif told him, hands still anxiously folded in his lap. Simmons grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers, feeling that familiar warmth flow through him again. It made him feel happy. It made him feel safe.

“You sure?” Grif asked, light reflecting off his eyes in a way that made them gleam. Simmons smiled and shook his head.

“I don’t have anything. I don’t have a loving Father. I don’t have friends. I don’t have most of my leg. But I do have you. And like hell am I going to let you go,” Simmons said, squeezing his hand tightly.

“I feel like I’m in a god damn Lifetime movie right now,” Grif chuckled. Simmons laughed along with him because it did feel kind of ridiculous. “Come here asshole.” Grif grabbed him and pulled him down on the bed so that they were laying down. Grif slung an arm around his waist and pulled him closer so that Simmons’ head was up against his chest. Simmons sighed contently and moved his head so it was comfortably pressed in the crook of Grif’s neck and grabbed Grif’s waist. Grif kissed his head and rubbed circles into his side with his thumb reassuringly.

“Thanks, for everything,” Simmons muttering against Grif’s skin before closing his eyes, his adrenaline rush finally coming down and turning into exhaustion.

“By the way, I’m pretty sure your nose is broken,” Grif told him.

“Ah, fuck it,” Simmons laughed, pressing himself closer to his lab partner.

If being sucked into the void meant not having Grif pressed against him, not hearing Grif’s steady breathing, not feeling Grif’s heart pound against his chest, then he didn’t want to be taken by it. Oblivion be damned. Cuddling was so much better.

 


	7. Neon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's something to make up for all the angst :)

Simmons woke up to an empty bed. The empty space beside him left him cold once again. He looked at the spot, confused for a moment before looking around at the rest of the room. Where was he again? Oh yeah, Grif’s room. The memories of last night came rushing back to him like a dam breaking and it took all of his willpower not to cry.

Instead of focusing on that, he decided to get up from the very comfortable temperpedic bed to go find Grif. Knowing him, he was probably in the kitchen eating a huge stack of waffles. As Simmons looked over at the bedside table to see what time it was he noticed that he wasn’t wearing his glasses. The bright red numbers in front of him were all blurred. He growled in annoyance until he saw the shape of his glasses next to the clock. He quickly scoped them up and examined them the best he could with his blurry eyes. It looked like Grif had tried to fix them, tape rolled around the middle to keep them together. Simmons laughed, it didn’t really help the giant crack on one of the lenses but it was the thought that counts.

Simmons yawned as he put his glasses on to see his still obscured but less blurry view of the world. He yelped as they sat on his nose. Oh yeah, he broke his nose. He almost forgot. It felt numb at the moment, only little pulses of pain hitting him every now and then. He knew he would have to get it fixed up eventually. As he sat up he winced at the pain coming from his stomach. It was sore and bruised. It sucked. He just wanted to lay back down on the bed for a few more hours but he wanted to find Grif. So, Simmons endured that pain as he got up and walked down the massive staircase (like seriously, who needs stairs that big?) and to the kitchen.

Surprisingly, Grif wasn’t there. Instead was a plate of two pancakes, sloppy ones that were anything but round, that one kind of looked like cloud, with a note left beside it. In terrible handwriting was: _Morning dork, I made you some pancakes. Syrup’s in the fridge. I’m probably by the pool if you’re looking for me._

Simmons felt his stomach rumble as he took in the smell of the freshly made pancakes. He had forgotten that he didn’t eat at all yesterday and his stomach was yelling at him for it. As much as he wanted to see Grif he knew that he would have to eat first.

He scarfed down his pancakes in less than five minutes, dumping syrup onto it like a mad man. He hummed contently as he looked down at his licked clean plate. He was still hungry but at least now he was content. He quickly put the plate in the sink then left out the sliding glass doors in the kitchen that lead to the pool.

The pool was breathtaking. It was huge, taking up most of the backyard. It had a high dive and even a fucking _waterfall._ Simmons was tempted to jump in right then and there and just let himself be cleaned by the heated water.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he heard Grif muse from his seat on a lounge chair. He was sitting in his bathing suit under an umbrella, margarita in hand and sunglasses pushed up over his hair.

“What’s up?” Simmons greeted for the lack of anything better to say.

“Cleaning the pool,” Grif told him as he took a spit of his icy drink.

Simmons laughed and walked closer to him, unsure of what to do. “How are you feeling?” Grif asked, rubbing Simmons’ arm. He felt that warm feeling again in his stomach at his touch.

“Sore,” he told him with a shrug.

“Come here,” Grif said, guiding Simmons to lay down next to him on the lounge chair. It was soft, padded by pillows, and the shade of the umbrella was nice. He moved so he was lying on his side, hand draped around Grif and head lying on his shoulder. Grif moved the drink in front of him. “Wanna sip?”

Simmons was reluctant but the pancakes had left his mouth feeling dry so he figured why the hell not. He picked up the giant, floral glass and took a small sip. He instantly retracted, coughing as sour liquid slid down his throat. “I thought margaritas were supposed to be fruity?!”

“Huh? Oh, sorry, this is just vodka with ice,” Grif chuckled at Simmons scrunched up expression. “What? I like the glass.” Grif set the drink down on the table next to them and wrapped his arm around Simmons, his fingers make their way through his bed head red hair. It made Simmons hum with comfort and hold onto Grif tighter.

“Can I ask you something?” Simmons mumbled into Grif’s warm skin.

“Sure, buddy,” he answered, his fingers still weaving through his hair.

The words were caught in his throat for a moment before he finally let them free, “Why do you like me?”

“Dumb question,” Grif spat, his fingers stopping momentarily.

Simmons craned his head to look up at his lab partner. “I’m serious, Grif. Why do you like me?”

Grif let out a sigh before looking Simmons in his green eyes. “Well, first of all, you’re fucking adorable. Like, seriously, it should be illegal for you to be this cute.” Simmons smiled, a small laugh escaping him. He never thought of himself as cute but then again he remember back to their first day of Chemistry together. _You’re lucky you’re cute_ , rang through his head as the memory drifted back to him.

“Secondly, you’re so smart. You’re the smartest person I know Simmons and that just makes you so much more desirable because I’m dumb as a sack of bricks. Talking to you is like talking to the universe,” Grif smiled, looking away as a blush crept up his cheeks.

“And lastly you put up with my shit. I thought that you were just gonna rat me out or something once you found out my plan to ruin your life, or at least your Chemistry grade, but you played along and even one up’ed me. That’s saying something. I knew right then and there that I was going to make you mine,” Grif finished, cheeks thoroughly flushed, along with Simmons.

That was literally the nicest thing anyone had ever said to Richard Simmons. It make his insides explode with happiness and just being in Grif’s presence was enough to make Simmons feel like he made the right choice.

To thank him Simmons moved so his face was even with Grif’s. He closed the gap between them and gave him a long, loving kiss, ignoring the pain from his nose as it awkwardly pressed against Grif’s. “Thank you,” he breathed when he finally pulled away, even though he didn’t want to. “My whole life people have told me everything that was wrong with me that, well, I didn’t think that anything was _right_ with me. And I started to believe them, even to the point where the bullying didn’t bother me that much because why fight the truth? But you saying all that…just, thanks,” Simmons stuttered, unsure of how to form his emotions into words.

“People are stupid, Simmons. Just remember that,” Grif told him with a smile.

“So…,” Simmons looked at him expectantly, faces still lined up with each other. Simmons was now just flat out laying on top of him since he couldn’t find the strength to hold himself up.

“So, what?” Grif asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I like you?” Simmons asked, his cheeks starting to burn.

Grif let out a hearty laugh. “Please Simmons, have you seen me? How could anyone resist _this_ ,” he gestured to his whole body, laugher still present in his voice. Simmons laughed along with him.

“Well, I just think you’re funny and nice for an asshole. And you really care about people even though you don’t let it on. Just thought you should know,” Simmons shrugged.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, foreheads pressed together, Grif’s hand running up and down Simmons’ freckled back. Until Grif broke the silence with something Simmons knew he was putting off.

“What are you going to do about this whole situation? I mean you can stay here for as long as you want but-,” Grif shrugged, fixing Simmons glasses for him, which were starting to fall off his face. “I just don’t want you to be sad anymore.”

Simmons sighed, burying his face in the crook of Grif’s neck. “I don’t know. I guess I should call my Mom to make sure she’s okay.”

“Here, do it now,” Grif said and the urgency in his voice surprised him. Grif handed him his cellphone with a nod. Simmons got up, wincing once again at the pain in his stomach, and stood to look out over the pool. He dialed his Mom’s cellphone number and held the phone up to his ear, unsure if he wanted her to pick up or not. To be honestly he loved living in this fantasy world with Grif, pretending that everything was okay and that they were the only two people on the Earth. He wished it could stay like that forever.

After the third ring his Mom answered with a curious, “Hello?”

“Hey, Mom, it’s Dick,” he said, rubbing the back of neck nervously. He could feel Grif’s stare on him even though he heard the slurping of a drink behind him. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, Dick, honey, I’m so glad you’re okay. Where are you? You’re not too hurt, are you?” Simmons could hear the worry in her voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I think my nose is broken though. I’m-I’m at Grif’s house. He fixed me up,” Simmons said, nervous as to what she would say about that.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, sweetie,” His Mom said. It was silent on the other end for a while and he knew that she didn’t want to answer the question she knew was on Simmons’ mind.

“What about Dad?” he asked, hearing his voice crack. Stupid puberty and tears.

“I-I called the police. They have him in a holding cell for now. I’m staying at Aunt Becky’s house. I tried calling you all last night, I was so worried, I didn’t know where you went-,” his Mom started ranting but Simmons cut her off.

“I’m fine, I really am,” he reassured her.

“Dick, I’m so sorry about your Father. I should’ve done something about him sooner. I was just scared,” her voice got quietly and Simmons heard a sob on the other end.

“It’s not your fault, Mom, I don’t blame you. Everything’s going to be okay now, I promise,” he said in a confident voice. Everything was going to be a lot better even if he had to force it to. As he glanced back at Grif he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be so hard. Simmons then gave his Mom the address to Grif’s house for when she was going to pick him up later and hung up, giving the phone back to Grif and settling back down on the lounge chair with him.

“Everything okay?” Grif asked.

“Yup, Dad’s in jail and Mom’s at my Aunts. She’s going to pick me up in an hour or so,” he told him, laying back on top of him.

“So, we have an hour to kill, huh?” Grif wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, a mischievous grin on his face. Simmons just shook his head, albeit having a smile on his face himself because damn if he hadn’t thought about making out with Dexter Grif again, as Grif smashed their faces together. Simmons quickly pulled back with a yelp, rubbing his nose.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Grif apologized.

“It’s okay, asshole,” Simmons laughed and Grif pulled him into another kiss, this time gentler but with just as much passion as before. Simmons dragged his hands down Grif’s bare chest. He didn’t have this much freedom before when he was on the bottom. This time Simmons was in control, deepening the kiss, hearing Grif moan against his lips. He slipped his tongue inside the others mouth, mimicking the movements that Grif had done before. Grif was obviously not liking how he didn’t have a lot of control over the kiss so he did the one thing he could do: grab his lab partner’s ass. Simmons squeaked at the action which made Grif laughed into the kiss, echoing throughout Simmons’ body.

“GAY,” they both pulled apart to see Grif’s sister opening the gate to come inside.

Grif just shook his head and gave his sister the middle finger while kissing Simmons again. Simmons heard a disgusted noise come from his sister before the slamming of a door.

Yeah, he could kiss Grif forever if he could.


	8. Zinc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for over a 100 kudos! You guys rock :)

After their make out session Grif led Simmons back to his room to show him the finished potato clock. Simmons was surprised that it actually worked, flipping on the LCD clock and watching the red numbers blink at him. He smiled and called Grif a nerd which resulted in a slap in the back of the head and a reassuring kiss which led to another make out session on Grif’s very comfy bed.

Then they just talked while they waited for Simmons’ Mom to arrive. Simmons learned that Grif had tried to learn how to surf back in Hawaii but failed miserably at it. He learned that Grif punched a dude in the face once for insulting his Moms. He learned that his favorite food was Oreo’s covered in peanut butter. Simmons just laid their next to him quietly, learning more and more about his new boyfriend as he snuggled against him.

It seemed as if Grif wasn’t used to doing all the talking. Even in Chemistry on the occasions that they did have a normal discussion without yelling at each other or blowing something up Simmons did most of the talking. Simmons wasn’t sure why that was, maybe because Grif didn’t really care enough to contribute to most conversations, or maybe it was because no one would let Grif talk.

But then Grif said that Star Trek Next Gen was better than the original and the two almost got into a fist fight.

“I should really get changed into actual clothes,” Grif shrugged after they decided to “agree to disagree”. Simmons had forgotten that Grif was still in his bathing suit, shirtless. Simmons nodded in agreement and Grif slid of the bed and picked up some clothes from a pile on the floor.

When Simmons realized that Grif was going to change right in front of him he quickly covered his eyes. Soon after he heard a laugh. “Dude, what, are you scared to see me naked? I am your boyfriend after all.”

“One, we’ve been together for not even 24 hours so that does not constitute enough time for me to see you naked. Two, I’m respecting your privacy,” Simmons told him matter-of-factly. Grif just scoffed and got changed into a pair of shorts and an orange t-shirt.

“You can open your eyes now, prude,” Grif said as he plopped down on the bed. Simmons moved his hands from his eyes and glared at his boyfriend.

“Shut up, pervert,” Simmons growled back. Grif just stuck his tongue out at the younger boy before grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers.

“GRIF, YOUR BOYFRIEND’S MOM IS HERE,” they heard Kai yell from downstairs. Simmons flushed red, he hadn’t told his Mom that he was technically dating a guy. That and he was only technically dating him since last night. But whatever she had to say about it was probably not as bad as his Dad’s reaction.

“Party’s over,” Grif frowned and kissed Simmons on the cheek before pulling him off the bed and leading him downstairs, hands still tangled together. As they walked down Grif’s staircase for giants Simmons saw his Mom standing awkwardly next to Kai at the door. She was wearing the same clothes as yesterday and the bag under her eyes indicated that she didn’t get a lot of sleep over at Aunt Becky’s. Simmons felt bad for making her worry but he really didn’t have too much of a choice on the matter.

“Oh, sweetie,” Simmons’ Mom quickly ran and enveloped him in her arms, ignoring that the two were holding hands, but pulling back when Simmons flinched from the pain that came with the contact. Grif had been gentle while they kissed, knowing exactly which spots would hurt him and avoiding them. His Mom still had no idea what condition he was in.

His Mom frowned as she looked at him, moving his face up so she could look at his black and blue nose. “I’m glad you’re not too hurt but this is still, God, Richard, I’m so sorry I let it get that far.” Simmons could see the tears start to well in his Mother’s eyes again. Simmons gave Grif’s hand a squeeze before pulling apart and hugging his Mom, this time careful not to touch his bruises.

“I told you, it’s not your fault,” Simmons said before pulling away from her. He shot a quick look at Grif, who seemed to be making a face at Kai, and turned back to his Mom. “Uh, Mom, this is Dexter Grif.”

Grif instantly turned his funny face into a smile, extending a hand out to his Mom. “Pleasure to meet you Mrs. Simmons,” he said in a tone that Simmons could tell he only used when around adults he respected. His Mom just smiled at Grif before pulling him into a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you so much for taking care of my little boy,” his Mom said as Grif awkwardly hugged back.

“Uh, no problem,” Grif said with a sigh of relief when his Mom let go. “He’s quite a guy,” Grif gave Simmons a wink that instantly turned him red.

“Anyway, we should get going. We really need to get that nose of yours checked out,” his Mom said as she still looked at Simmons like poverty was her fault. Simmons gave her another weak smile before turning back to Grif.

“Thanks again, for everything,” he told him, adjusting his glasses even though they didn’t need to be adjusted. God, he really hoped that Grif didn’t kiss goodbye him in front of his Mom-

And Grif was kissing him. It was a short kiss but it was still enough to make the red on his face go from crimson to Mission Impossible Death Threat Level Red. He heard his Mom giggle a little next to him, trying to hide her smile.

Simmons waved goodbye to Kai as they started to leave and she responded with a gesture that Simmons thanked God his Mom didn’t see. As they were closing the door he was just barely able to hear Kai say, “You got a keeper there, don’t you Dex?”

“Yeah, I really do,” Grif responded before the door closed behind them.

It was silent in the car on the way to the hospital. It was if either of them didn’t know which conversation to start with. His Dad or his boyfriend?

His Mom decided for him. “I’m pressing charges against your Father. I can’t let him get away with what he did. He’s not allowed back home with us or anywhere near us. Is-Is that okay with you?”

His Mom eyed him warily from the driver’s seat. Simmons swallowed, mulling it over. Well, of course it was okay. His Dad had beaten him the night before. His Dad had verbally abused him his entire life. But still, it was weird, he still had a bit of sympathy for the man. He was his Father after all and it’s not like all the times were bad. It was only a forced sense of pity though, like he _should_ feel bad for him because he was his Father. But really, he didn’t.

“That’s fine. He deserves it,” Simmons said after a moment of silence. His Mother nodded then moved on to the next topic.

“So, Dexter.” She was smiling now as Simmons quickly turned his head to look out the window. “He seems like a nice boy.”

“Yeah, he is, kinda,” Simmons laughed, thinking back to all the insults they threw at each other in Chemistry.

“He seems to really like you,” she continued and it was only making Simmons want to throw up even more. Why did this conversation have to be so damn awkward for him? “Do you?”

Simmons turned his head back to his Mom, raising an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“Do you really like him?” she repeated.

“Yeah, I do,” he said with a grin, resting his arm up against the car door so he could hold up his head. “And you’re okay with that? I mean, since he’s a guy and all.”

“Honey, I don’t care who you like as long as they love you and treat you well,” his Mom said and she could see the pain in her eyes because it was clear that she was giving him advice based off of personal experience. Then her eyes had that glint that he always saw in Grif’s eyes when he was about to do something stupid and embarrassing to him.

“So, this means we should have the talk-,”

“LA LA LA, I’M NOT LISTENING, I’M NOT LISTENING,” Simmons yelled, covering his ears and turning away from her. Like hell was he going to have the sex talk with his Mother on the way to the hospital. No fucking way.

Eventually they made it to the hospital and the doctors were able to fix up his nose. Well, fix it up the best they could considering it was broken. So, they pretty much just put some tape on his nose and gave him painkillers.

When Monday came around Simmons hadn’t expected to be swarmed by his classmates as soon as he walked into Chemistry. They were all talking at once, pointing at his nose, an excited gleam in their eyes like this was the most important news they had heard in years.

“Is it true that you got in a fight with some football player for another school at a party?” Wash asked after quieting everyone down. “That’s how you broke your nose, right?”

“Uh…,” Simmons scanned the eyes of his classmates as they all waited in anticipation for his answer. That’s when he saw Grif sitting in the back at their lab table, feet propped up and donut in his mouth, give him a wink. That sneaky bastard. “Yeah, that’s exactly what happened,” he lied, watching his classmates boom in excitement and start to ask more questions before Sarge walked in and told them all to shove a sock in it and get to their seats.

“Didn’t know you were so good at telling stories,” Simmons whispered to Grif as he took his feet off the table.

“I’m not, I’m just good at lying,” he laughed a little. “Anyway, you totally owe me one for that.”

“Thanks,” Simmons told him for probably the thousandth time since he met his lab partner.

“No problemo. That’s Spanish for no problem.”

Simmons started to feel that odd warmth flow through him again. But this time it was different. It wasn’t the warmth that came with kissing Grif, the kind that made his stomach house butterflies and his heart flutter in time with every flap of wings. This was a comforting warmth, something that traveled through him that made him feel safe, like everything was going to be okay. And it was.

The next two weeks went by in a flurry of fun for Simmons. Grif and Simmons were actually able to go on a legitimate date instead of just making out in his room. Grif took him to see some shitty movie where the dialog was pulled from the toilet and the characters were flimsy and 2D. So, instead of making out in Grif’s room they ended up making out in the movie theater, the taste of butter present on their tongues and the sound of explosions in the background.

They went on a few more dates after that, sometimes just hanging out at each other’s houses, or going out to eat at some fast food restaurant, or taking a stroll around the neighborhood park. They would just talk about their lives before they met each other, discussing interests and yet again arguing over Star Trek. They would hold hands, ignoring stares from some people (Grif could always tell that Simmons was nervous when it came to PDA so whenever someone would send them a sketchy glance Grif would be there to shoot a glare at them), and kissing like they didn’t have any cares in the world.

Of course, there were some other cares that occupied Simmons’ life. He had his first Mathelet’s competition and did great. Grif was even there to cheer him on, even if he did fall asleep half way through.

They ended up getting an A on their potato clock, raising their grades a whole letter. But the comfort was short lived when Sarge announced that they were going to have their first test and since Simmons was so close to having an A in the class he was studying his butt of and overall being riddled with anxiety. By the time the test came and Simmons was staring down at the sheet of paper in front of him, pencil still in his hand, he didn’t even want to look at the test. Grif obviously saw something was wrong with his boyfriend and grabbed his hand under the table, holding it for a few moments to calm Simmons down. It worked and Simmons was able to speed through the test. He actually got an A, Grif skimming by with a low C.

And that leads us to the end of Chemistry class on a Monday. Sarge was still teaching even though half the class was already putting their books away. To be honest Simmons even wanted to leave. Something about Sarge explaining Moles just made him sleepy.

He was jerked awake when he saw Grif slide a note to him. Simmons raised an eyebrow at his lab partner before discreetly unraveling it to see what it said.

_Are you on the periodic table? 'Cause you are SODIUM fine ;)_

_Anyway, Homecoming’s on Friday, wanna be my date?_

“AND WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE,” Simmons jumped, note still in hand, as Sarge towered over him, booming voice still echoing in his ears. “What have I told you about passing notes in my class?” Sarge then ripped the notes from Simmons’ grasp.

“Let’s share this with the class, shall we?” Simmons actually felt his heart stop. Although they went on dates and did some stuff in public, Simmons and Grif hadn’t come out to the school yet. Oh God, they were so fucking fucked.

Sarge read over the note, silent for a moment, before saying, “Grif, I will not tolerate drawings of genitals in my class. Detention with me after school!” Sarge yelled before giving them a small smile. Seemed as if Sarge understood the situation, figuring it wasn’t his place to announce something like that.

As Grif groaned Simmons let out a sigh, happy that he could let their relationship be known on their terms. And it seems as if they were going to do just that at Homecoming.

“Of course, dummy,” he whispered to Grif who stared at him in confusion for a few seconds before smiling.

This was certainly going to be interesting, huh?


	9. Radium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!

A mess. His room was a mess (although not as messy as Grif’s) but still it was messier than it had been in ages. Clothes were strewn across his bed. Only patches of the floor could be seen. And it was all because Simmons had nothing to wear to Homecoming and he was freaking out.

To be honest Simmons never really cared too much about what he wore but for some irrational reason he felt like he had to look the best he’s every looked for this stupid ass dance. Maybe it was all those movies about high school that romance the idea that school dances were the best night of your life and will get you laid. Not like Simmons wanted to get laid that night, it’s just, you know, he was nervous.

Eventually, after banging his head against the wall for a solid minute, he sucked it up and put on a white button down he wore on Christmas, a black tie, some nice pants, and a pair of loafers. As he tightened his tie he stared at himself in the mirror, taking a deep breath. He definitely wasn’t ready for this.

He was going to be dancing. With Grif. In front of the entire school. It’s not like he didn’t want to hide their relationship, in fact sometimes he wanted to scream it from the rooftops, it’s just Simmons had never been good at change and confrontation. What if some people took it badly?

Simmons quickly shook his head, which was still throbbing from the whole hitting it against the wall thing. This was his and Grif’s night to have fun and if anyone had a problem with it then, well, who cares, right?

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard his Mom yell from downstairs, “Dick, your handsome date is here!”

He was already blushing and he hadn’t even left his room yet.

When he came downstairs he saw Grif, along with two other people who Simmons assumed were his Mom’s. They must’ve finally gotten back from Hawaii. One was heavy but Simmons didn’t see her as “Big Apple Circus Freak Show” heavy as he had expected, and she didn’t have a beard. In fact she looked quite confident in her body type. The other woman was like a tooth pick with dark skin and long, straight, black hair. She stood kind of nervously while his Mom talked to her about something he couldn’t hear.

And for fucks sake Grif was wearing one of those faux tuxedo t-shirts and jeans, a smug smile to match. It made Simmons feel silly for getting worked up over what he was going to wear.

“Hey there hot stuff, looking good,” Grif told him, stealing a quick kiss.

“You have no shame do you?” Simmons eyed his boyfriend, eyebrow raised.

Grif just shrugged. “Life’s too short for that.”

That’s when Simmons noticed that Grif was holding something behind his back. He moved so he could try to see it as he asked, “Did you…get me flowers?”

“Hell no, that’s dumb,” Grif deadpanned before throwing something heavy at Simmons. He caught it only to see that it was a box set of _Star Trek: The Next Generation._

“You know I’ve already seen all of them, right?” Simmons held up the box like it was evidence. “That’s where I got my reasoning that the original Star Trek is way better.”

“I know, nerd,” Grif shook his head, swatting his arm lightly, “I just want you to re-watch all of them so you can change your opinion.”

“How many times do I have to go over this-,” Simmons started to rant before his Mom cut him off with one of those cheeky throat clears to get his attention.

“Boys, be nice, no fighting,” she scolded lightly. “Now get together, I wanna take pictures.”

Simmons and Grif both groaned in annoyance. “But Moooooooom,” Simmons dragged out, putting on his best pout to try to get out of smiling for a solid ten minutes.

“Don’t ‘but Mom’ me, mister,” she wagged her finger at him before taking out her phone and pushing the boys together.

“Mom, Ma, you’re gonna back me up here, right?” Grif asked pleadingly.

“Hell no, we’re taking pictures too!” One of his Mom’s said.

So, Simmons and Grif stood next to each other awkwardly for a few minutes while the Mom’s took pictures. Simmons just hoped they didn’t end up on Facebook or something. Since when did parents get into the whole social networking thing anyway?

“Okay, we really have to go now or we’ll be late,” Grif said while Simmons’ Mom tried to get them to do cute poses.

“Party poopers,” she frowned before nodding. “Fine but first I gotta lecture you.”

“MOM ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW,” Simmons yelled, throwing his arms up in the air in protest.

“Richard!” his Mom gave him that one Mom look that makes you regret everything you’ve ever done in your entire life. She softened when Simmons put his arms down and avoided eye contact. “You know the rules: No drinking, no drugs, be back by eleven. Got it?”

“Yes Mom,” Simmons said.

“Yes ma’am,” Grif nodded at her before sending Simmons a sly wink that the parents in the room didn’t catch. Good God, what did he have in store for tonight?

“Alright, I won’t torture you anymore, get going,” she said with a smile on her face, ushering the teens out the door. Grif’s Mom’s stayed in the house, something about them all having a margarita and movie night.

The two walked down the sidewalk in silence for a few minutes, Simmons already started to feel sweaty in his outfit. Long sleeves just didn’t work for the Texas Fall.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Grif said all of a sudden, refusing to look Simmons in his surprised eyes.

“What do you mean?” Simmons asked, a little worried.

“It’s just, I don’t know, you seem nervous about this whole thing. I mean, I don’t think too many people will care that we’re dating but you know. I just want to make sure you’re not feeling pressured or anything,” Grif shrugged, rubbing the back of his head.

“Oh, that,” Simmons said, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning his gaze to the old sidewalk underneath their feet. “Grif, to be honest I’m a little nervous, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do this. I want to go to the dance with you. I want to go on dates with you. I want to _be_ with you. There’s really no use in hiding my feelings.”

Simmons could see Grif beaming at him in his peripheral vision. “You’re such a dork,” Grif laughed, pulling Simmons’ hand out of his pocket and taking it in his.

“How does that make me a dork?!” Simmons asked loudly, voice cracking from hitting a high octave.

“Everything you say about our relationship sounds like it’s from a damn Nicholas Sparks book,” Grif said, swinging their arms together. It looked ridiculous.

“I’ve only seen _The Notebook_ once! I swear!” Simmons defended himself.

That just made Grif laugh more, shaking his head, making his dark curls bounce from side to side. He really needed a haircut. Although, Simmons kind of liked Grif’s hair long.

“Hey, check it,” Grif said, changing the subject. He reached into his back pocket to pull out a flask. “I’m gonna spike the punch.”

“GRIF,” Simmons yelled, snatching the flask from his boyfriend’s hand. “Do you know how much trouble you could get in if you’re caught?!”

“Well, I just won’t get caught, duh,” Grif told him as he snatched the flash back and put it in his pocket.

“You’re a terrible influence,” Simmons said with a roll of his green eyes.

“I know,” Grif said, bumping his shoulder, making them both stumble a bit, hands still interlocked.

When they arrived at the gymnasium where Homecoming was being held the place already looked crowded. Guess they were a little late. The theme was “A Night Under the Stars” so the place was covered in fairy lights and fake clouds made out of cotton balls. The two walked in hand in hand as they both held their breaths. They caught a few eyes but that was all really. No one came up to them with a mean comment, everyone didn’t stop dancing once they walked in, and no one was staring. Simmons released a huge sigh of relief. Seems like people in this school were more tolerant than he thought, considering all the crap they gave him for liking math. He could like boys, just not numbers.

“See, I told you everything would be okay,” Grif gave him a smile. Simmons smiled back but jumped when he felt arms wrap around his shoulders.

“I totally knew it, I knew it I knew it I knew it!” He heard the familiar voice of Donut from behind him. “Doc, you owe me ten bucks good buddy!”

“Knew what?” Simmons squeaked as Donut released him. He could barely hear himself over the pulsing sound of the music.

“I knew you two were dating!” Donut proclaimed as Doc handed him the ten dollars.

“Y-You did?” Simmons asked. Were they really that obvious?

“Pa-lease, I saw you two giving each other googly eyes every class!” Simmons felt a blush creep up his cheeks.

“Well, congrats on your prize money, but I have a date with this cute red head and the punch bowl,” Grif winked before dragging him towards Grif’s mission.

While his boyfriend led them to their inevitable suspension Simmons took the time to look at all the faces in the crowd of high schoolers.

Simmons saw some familiar faces, Tucker and Wash talking by the bleachers, Church sitting by the door looking like he was waiting for someone while Caboose talked next to him. He saw a lot of the swim team in the middle of the dance floor, jumping and singing along to an over played pop song. Sarge was at the edge of the dance floor chaperoning, going up to people who were grinding against each other or making out to pull them a part with a scowl on his face.

They made it to the punch bowl quickly and Grif stared to scan the perimeter. Sarge was in the middle of breaking up a couple and the other chaperons were off towards the side, away from the snack table.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Simmons muttered to his lab partner as he started to pour the contents of the flask into the punch. No going back now.

Grif was fast and put the empty flask into his back pocket before pouring them two cups of the now spiked juice. “Bottoms up,” Grif smirked as he handed him the plastic cup. Simmons narrowed his eyes at the pink liquid. “Carpe diem, man,” Grif told him when he noticed his nervous look.

“Do you even know what that means?”

“No, but people seem to say it a lot when they’re about to do something potentially stupid,” Grif shrugged as he downed the cup.

Simmons stared at the cup for a few more seconds, his Mom’s words echoing in his ears, before shrugging. “Fuck it, Carpe Diem bitch.” He then downed the whole thing. It was kind of sour but the punch really took the edge off.

“There you go, asshole,” Grif said before planting a sloppy kiss on his lips.

“What was that whole thing about pressuring me you said earlier?” Simmons raised an eyebrow.

“Eh, that was different. Anyway you can’t get through a high school dance without being at least tipsy.” Grif was already pouring them another glass.

“Hey,” they heard from the other side of the table. Simmons turned to see the Co-Captain of the swim team, Shaun York, who had a fresh scar running across one ghostly white eye. Simmons hadn’t heard the story about that yet and he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to. “Is this spiked punch?”

“Hell yeah it is,” Grif answered as he downed another cup, Simmons doing the same. Definitely not to look cool in front of an older student, ha, no way.

“Fuckin A,” York said before pouring a bunch of cups for his friends.

Again they were trapped in silence, even though the music was so loud it was starting to hurt Simmons’ ears. What…what were you even supposed to do at dances?

Simmons seemed to answer his own question. “So, should we dance or something?” Simmons asked as he glanced at the crowded dance floor full of sweaty and horny teenagers. He almost threw up a little in his mouth.

Grif had a similar expression on his face. “Nah, dancing is too closely related to exercise and you know how I am about exerting energy. Let’s wait for a slow song.”

Simmons eyes widened when he realized something. “Grif, I have no idea how to slow dance,” he whispered like it was a dangerous and embarrassing secret.

“Dude, me neither. We’ll figure it out as we go along,” Grif told him, patting him on the shoulder. And just like that the God of cheesy moments decided that now was a good time for a slow song. “Speak of the devil, let’s dance babe.”

Once again Simmons was swept off his feet by his lab partner.

About half of the people left the dancer floor and started talking to one another, heading over to the punch bowl once they caught wind that someone had spiked it. Simmons stood in the middle of the floor in front of Grif giving him a horrified look. He was going to have to slow dance in front of all these people? He was going to throw up. It was going to be terrible. He would have to go to therapy for years to coup with the embarrassing memory.

“You okay, Simmons? You look a little green,” Grif eyed him.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” he voice squeaked at the end indicating that he was very much not fine.

“Okay, listen, just pretend it’s you and me and no one else,” Grif told him as he grabbed Simmons’ waist and pulled him closer. “Now put your arms around my neck.”

Simmons did as he was told, feeling a little awkward because Grif was shorter than him, but they made it work. “Now what?”

“Now we just kinda…sway? I don’t know man, dancing’s weird as shit,” Grif said as he started to move them back and forth to a slow song that Simmons didn’t recognize.

Although he felt awkward as fuck Simmons felt a certain kind of peace to it. When he was just looking at Grif it was like he was sucked into some kind of trance, like it was just them moving back and forth like waves in the ocean, lulling each other into a weird dream like state where they were the only thing that mattered to each other.

They started to relax against each other and suddenly it didn’t feel that awkward anymore.

Then Grif was kissing him.

Simmons started to get nervous again because he had always seen kissing as a very intimate and private thing and to do it in front of so many people, well, it broke a barrier that Simmons hadn’t realized he set up. Grif noticed him stiffen up and pulled away.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and that sad little look in his eyes made Simmons heart wrench. Simmons was definitely being too over dramatic.

“No, it’s okay,” Simmons smiled and leaned down to kiss him against. Grif grabbed his waist tighter to try to make them closer even though they were already as close as they could physically be. Simmons tangled his fingers in Grif’s curly hair, holding his head in place as he deepened the kiss.

“Break it up you too!” Simmons was then harshly pushed away from his boyfriend by the one and only Sarge. “Kids today and their gosh darn PDA, when will you learn?”

“And Simmons! I thought you knew better than to date a sack of potatoes like Grif! I had high hopes for you son, I really did,” Sarge tisks before walking away, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath.

“Did I really get cock blocked by our Chemistry teacher?” Grif raised an eyebrow while Simmons let out a breathy laugh.

It didn’t matter anyway because the slow song ended a few seconds later and suddenly everyone was back on the dance floor, the music back to its high tempo.

Grif led him back to the snack table before putting on, what Simmons liked to call, his thinking face. It’s when Grif’s face would get all scrunched up and he would scratch the stubble on his chin. It was really cute.

“This is boring, let’s blow this Popsicle stand,” Grif said, grabbing Simmons hand.

“Wait what? What’s always wrong with the Popsicle stand? The Popsicle stand is nice and safe and definitely not against any parents rules,” Simmons told him, a worried look spread across his pale and freckled face.

“Our parents said to be back by eleven, they didn’t say we had to _stay_ at the dance,” Grif pointed out.

“But we’ve only been here for like 20 minutes and it’s only a little passed 9! What are we going to do for two hours?” Simmons asked.

“I don’t know, that’s the beauty of it, Simmons,” Grif smiled and pulled him out of the gym and out the back of the high school.

It had started to get chilly when they got outside and Simmons was starting to feel happy about his choice of attire. Grif on the other hand was already covered in goosebumps and was shivering.

“I lived in Hawaii, remember? Me and cold don’t mix well,” he told him as Simmons started to rub Grif’s arm to warm him up.

“Dude, we have to do this,” Grif said as he pointed to the empty football stadium, lights still on from the previous football game that was played that day.

“I don’t think we’re allowed to go in there,” Simmons told his lab partner as they approached the locked gate.

“Simmons, we went over this, crap dem!” Grif said as he walked around a bit to the shorter part of the fence you could hop over. That was really just poor planning on the schools part. The field was empty anyway besides for a couple making out under the bleachers. It looked like York and some red haired girl he didn’t recognize.

“Carpe diem,” Simmons corrected as he jumped over the fence behind Grif.

“It looks so weird actually being on the field. And being at a football stadium,” Grif said as they walked onto the turf, the little black pellets shooting up from the ground with every step they took towards the Puma head that was in the center of the field. Sarge always complained about it being a dumb mascot.

“I thought you liked to watch sports?” Simmons asked once they stepped onto the Puma head.

“Yeah but do you really think I would actually take the time to come all the way back to school at night to watch a football game? Besides, our football team sucks,” Grif told him as he sat down on the ground. Simmons sat down next to him.

Grif then laid down on his back and Simmons copied him, looking up at the stars dotting the sky like the fairy lights back in the gym. Clouds even hung low, a pale grey color, threatening looking but scattered across the night sky. It was really a night under the stars, huh?

“Hey Simmons, can I tell you something?” Grif asked, casting a glance over at the red head.

Simmons felt his heart skip a beat. Oh no, was he really going to do this? Bring them to a place where they could be alone and tell him? “Are you seriously going to tell me ‘I love you’? I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“What? No, jeez Simmons, calm down,” Grif said with a laugh. “I was just going to say thank you. I’ve never felt this happy before and I know it’s all because of you.”

It was weird hearing those words fall from Grif’s mouth. Usually it was Simmons who always said thank you considering all the times he’s been in messed up situations and Grif was there to help him. It felt nice though, knowing that he was making Grif happy, because really that was all he wanted for his boyfriend.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Simmons said, grabbing Grif’s hand against and intertwining their fingers.

“A-And, I’m not saying it, but, I think I have the potential to love you, Simmons,” Grif said. Simmons looked at him, a little surprised considering he had never seen Grif look nervous before. It must’ve taken a lot for him to say that.

“I think I have the potential to love you too, Grif.”

And the great thing was that they both understood each other, their words laced with starlight as grey clouds flew from their mouths from the cool air. They were both tipsy, uncomfortable laying down on the turf, and cold but Simmons knew that was probably the most happy he was going to be. Because he knew that from here on out his relationship with Grif would just keep on growing and Simmons couldn’t wait to see what was going to happen next.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there is still one more chapter left! It's not the end yet :)


	10. Nobelium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the last chapter! I hope you all enjoy it!

After lying on the football field for about an hour, the two decided to go home a little early. On their way out they saw a couple odd things that made them want to leave even more. Church was out in front of the school crying, Caboose by his side trying to calm him down but Church kept batting his friend away, insisting that he was fine. And in the parking lot they saw Wash and Tucker having a shouting match about something neither of them could understand. The two decided to leave them be, not wanting to get mixed up in any drama. Man, high school was weird.

“I had a great time,” Grif said once they arrived as Simmons’ door step. “Even if we were only at the dance for like 20 minutes.”

Simmons let out a small laugh, grabbing his boyfriend’s hands. “I had a great time too. I’m glad that you asked me to be your date.”

“I mean, if I didn’t, who would?” Grif cackled as Simmons hit him upside the head, earning an exclamation of pain from the older boy.

They both turned their heads as they heard loud laughter come from inside the house. “Looks like our Mom’s are having fun,” Simmons pointed out.

“Yeah, maybe too much fun. Maybe I’ll have to stay here tonight,” Grif wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I’m not having sex with you while our parents are downstairs,” Simmons told him sternly.

“That means if they weren’t here then you would totally let me do you!” Grif grinned mischievously, still holding onto Simmons’ hands.

“I never said that- wait what makes you think I would be bottom?” Simmons scowled at his lab partner.

“Please,” Grif rolled his eyes, enjoying the frustrated look on his boyfriends face and the shade of red that now replaced his pale skin.

“You know I’m joking, tomato face. We won’t do anything until you tell me you’re ready. I’m not a dick,” Grif told him, now serious.

“Well, not 100 percent a dick,” Simmons said, smiling at his own comeback. Grif looked like he was about to say something when he shivered, crossing his arms while his teeth started to chatter.

“Let’s go inside, it’s freezing out here,” he complained. Simmons was about to open the door but instead pulled Grif into a bone crushing hug.

“Warm yet?” He asked, rubbing his boyfriend’s back.

“Please, like your boney body could provide anyone sustainable warmth,” Grif huffed but Simmons could feel his smile against his neck.

“Don’t be an asshole, we’re having a moment,” Simmons said, pressing a kiss against Grif’s dark curls.

Grif then pulled away from him, even though Simmons was enjoying the comfy hug, and kissed him one last time before they went inside to watch Star Trek and cuddle on Simmons’ bed for the whole night.

The rest of freshman year went swimmingly for the lab partners. Turns out everyone saw their relationship coming so it wasn’t that big of a deal for their friends to see them as a couple. Simmons was grateful for their support, even though they teased the two relentlessly.

Simmons’ Dad moved out of the house and his Mom filed for a divorce. A small part in Simmons’ head felt bad for the man but then he would see the light bruises that took forever to go away on his skin and instantly regretted the feeling. He didn’t care where that man was now as long as it was away from him and the people he loved.

Simmons’ Mom and Grif’s Moms actually became pretty good friends, going out together and hanging out whenever the boys were on dates. His Mom loved Grif and his carefree attitude and quick wit. After a while it was almost like having another son for her.

Grif’s Moms were fond of Simmons as well, Grif’s Mom (the marine biologist one) loved sitting and having discussions with him about science. It was nice to have someone to talk to about stuff like that since Grif would always just pretend to listen and his Mom usually had no idea what he was talking about. Grif’s Mom told him once that the next time they went to Hawaii they would take him so he could meet the seals she always would avidly talk about.

Simmons won MVP for the mathelet’s, Delta telling him that he would be Captain in no time and that he looked forward to see him again next year. Simmons showed Grif his award, expecting him not to care, but his boyfriend was actually really happy for him. He even put a picture of Simmons and the award on his Instagram with the description: So proud of my wonderful boyfriend, he’s still a nerd though.

The first time they said “I love you” to each other was over spring break. Grif had a beach house about an hour away and invited him, Church, Tucker, Caboose, Donut, and Doc down for the week. Simmons’ Mom was a little wary of letting him go, seeing the group would be without parental supervision, but after much pleading she eventually gave in.

The group ended up having a great time down the shore, spending time down at the beach and the boardwalk. Grif was so proud of himself when he won Simmons a stuffed animal from one of those shitty boardwalk games.

Simmons had to cover himself in about ten pounds of sunscreen though, telling Grif that he doesn’t tan, he _burns_ and hid himself under their umbrella whenever they went to the beach. The good part was that Grif just wanted to sleep whenever they would set themselves up at the beach instead of playing football in the water with the rest of the guys so beach time became impromptu cuddle time.

Simmons had been nervous about going out with only a bathing suit considering he didn’t like showing his prosthetic, always afraid that someone would make fun of him for it. But Grif was able to help him get over that fear, saying that if anyone teased him about it he would rip their dicks off and feed them to the sharks. That surprisingly made him feel better.

On their last night down at the shore Simmons was woken up in the middle of the night by Grif. It was midnight and his boyfriend wanted to go night swimming. Simmons reluctantly agreed to come with him, putting on his bathing suit (although he had no idea how to swim or even wanted to) just so he wouldn’t get sand on his shorts and left his t-shirt on.

The beach was empty when they arrived after the short walk from the beach house. The moon’s rays reflected off the surface of the ocean and made it sparkle. The sound of the waves cracking and breaking the silence was pleasing to Simmons’ ears and he swore that he would stay there forever if he could. He watched as Grif ran into the ocean, yelling about how fucking cold it was. Simmons just sat down on the sand, inches away from the tide as he watched his boyfriend be a dork in the water. Grif kept diving under the water as if looking for something he lost.

After twenty minutes of this Grif returned to shore, hair sticking to his face and holding something in his hand. He sat down next to Simmons, taking a few moments to catch his breath.

“Are you alright? You look exhausted,” Simmons said, handing his lab partner a towel. Grif took it and started to dry himself off.

“I’m fine,” he said with a smile on his face.

“What were you doing anyway? You looked like a drowning dolphin out there.” Simmons received a shove for that comment.

“I saw something earlier and decided to look for it again. I can’t believe I found it,” Grif grinned, hand wrapped tightly around the object.

“What is it?” Simmons asked, trying to see what it was.

“Here, open it,” Grif said, handing Simmons a…oyster.

“Uh, okay,” Simmons shrugged as he tugged the oyster open. His eyes widened as he saw a shining pearl peek at him from the inside of the oyster. “Holy shit,” he gasped, taking the pearl in between his fingers.  

“Yeah, that’s like, a one in a million right?” Grif shrugged, still breathing heavily. “It’s for you though, you big nerd.”

“Wow,” Simmons breathed as he inspected the pearl under the moonlight, the way it shone and how smooth it was against his skin. After a few moments of observation he turned back to Grif and said, “This is just like Catching Fire, you know that?”

“Shut the fuck up I’m trying to do something nice for you,” he grumbled, looking down at the sand.

Simmons just grinned and pulled him in for a long kiss. “I love it…,” he took a deep breath before saying the next thing he wanted to say, to say the thing that he always wanted to say to Grif, the thing that he always felt whenever he saw him and touched him and kissed him. “And I love you.”

Grif’s honey colored eyes widened before he relaxed and smiled. “I love you too,” he said and kissed him again. They sat there on the beach kissing for a long time before the tide started to get too high and neither of them noticed, both of them getting soaked.

Simmons decided to never lose that pearl.

On the last day of school Sarge almost cried of happiness since Grif passed his class. Sarge actually hugged Simmons in a thank you for tutoring him and helping Grif to get the hell out of his class. Their chemistry teacher threw a party that day called “The Last Day I Have to See Grif”. Grif pretended to be mad but he was actually happy that things ended up well for him and that he got to move on to sophomore year with his boyfriend.

* * *

 

Dick Simmons was a nerd. There was no denying it. He liked Sci-Fi, he enjoyed science and math, he knew all the lines of the Star Trek movies by heart, and he could make a clock out of a potato.

Dexter Grif was a slacker. He hated work and loved food. He complained about everything and barley passed his classes.

The two were supposed to hate each other. They’re personalities clashed and their interests differed. They pranked each other and teased and insulted each other constantly.

But for some reason they couldn’t live without each other.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reviewing, bookmarking, leaving kudos and reading this fic! I had such a fun time writing it and seeing that you all enjoyed my writing makes me really happy considering I wasn't expecting on getting this much support and love for this fic. You are all awesome, thank you so much :D
> 
> ALSO ANNOUNCEMENT: I'm writing a sequel to this story (so it takes place in the same universe) called "We Have History Together" which is a Churboose fic! It's not up now but I hope to put up the first chapter in the next couple of days so keep an eye out for it! I will also probably put a link here when it's up so you can always just check this chapter too if you want. 
> 
> Thanks again <3


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